THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 
OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 
PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


.WILMER  COLU 


* 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2019  with  funding  from 
University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


https://archive.org/details/adrienne00hoyf_0 


ADRIENNE 


ADRIENNE 


Mrs.  FRANK  L.  HOY 


NEW  YORK  AND  WASHINGTON 

THE  NEALE  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 

I906 


Copyright,  1906 

Ky  The  Neale  Publishing  Company 


TO 


MISS  L.  EDNA  TODD 


602965 


ADRIENNE 


CHAPTER  I 

On  the  outskirts  of  a  lovely  Southern  suburb, 
surrounded  by  picturesque  and  extensive 
grounds  now  all  bathed  in  spring-time’s  golden 
sunshine,  stood  an  imposing-looking  structure. 
From  the  central  tower  of  this  building  a  deep- 
toned  bell  struck  the  hour.  Then  came  a  crowd 
of  girls  of  all  sizes  and  ages  hurrying  out  on  the 
lawn,  proclaiming,  by  joyous  shouts  and  ring¬ 
ing  laughter,  the  noon  recess.  Josie  Colson  and 
Adrienne  de  Courcelles,  this  moment  passing- 
through  the  open  door  of  the  reception-hall  out 
upon  the  broad  walk  leading  to  the  main 
entrance  gate,  began  to  stroll  up  and  down, 
apparently  engaged  in  earnest  conversation.  At 
the  same  time,  over  the  smoothly  cut  grass, 
Kittie  McVea  came  forward  to  meet  them, 
gracefully  swinging  her  hat  by  the  ribbons,  her 
short  frowsy  hair  glittering  in  the  sunlight  and 
her  dark  blue  eyes  sparkling  with  life  and  mis¬ 
chief,  as  she  sang  out  in  her  clear,  strong  voice 
the  Marseilles  Hymn. 


8 


Adrienne 


“Hurrah,  Kittle!”  Josie  called,  halting  in  her 
slow  promenade.  “You  have  heard  the  late 
news?  I  am  sure  of  it,  by  the  way  you  are 
shouting  the  stirring  notes  of  that  martial 
song.” 

For  a  moment  Kittie  stopped  short,  but 
recovering  herself,  she  answered,  with  a  laugh¬ 
ing  glance  into  Josie’s  eyes, 

“Considering  the  fact,  Josie,  that  you  have 
repeatedly  declared  I  am  given  to  the  sen¬ 
sational,  I  can’t  see  why  you  should  be  sur¬ 
prised  at  any  effort  on  my  part  to  keep  up  my 
worthy  reputation.  But  as  I  have  never  guessed 
a  riddle  in  my  life,  pray  relieve  my  curiosity  at 
once  by  telling  me  the  news.” 

“Good  gracious !  girl,  you  don’t  mean  to  say, 
since  the  woods  are  alive  with  the  wild  and 
exciting  report,  that  seventy-five  thousand  men 
have  actually  been  called  into  service  in  the 
North,  and  that  the  South  is  working  day  and 
night  to  meet  the  emergency,  that  you  haven’t 
heard  we  are  going  to  have  war  in  earnest?” 
Kittie  seemed  to  ponder  seriously  over  Josie’s 
words ;  but  suddenly  she  said,  with  a  little  flash 
of  spirit  shining  in  her  eyes, 

“Well,  I  call  it  nothing  short  of  an  immense 
relief  to  have  the  momentous  question  settled  f?8 
at  last,  while  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  acknowledge  hfc 
that  the  prospect  of  soon  seeing  an  army  in 
battle  array,  marching  to  the  music  of  fife  and 


Adrienne 


9 


drum,  fills  me  with  the  direct  inspiration  to  put 
on  my  war  paint  and  rush  forward  to  the  fray." 

"Is  it  so/'  laughed  Adrienne,  a  little  de¬ 
risively,  "that  by  a  series  of  brilliant  military 
coups  on  your  part,  Miss  McVea,  you  would 
have  your  name  go  down  to  posterity  among  the 
annals  of  American  history.  But  I  will  venture 
to  say,  Kittie,  the  first  roar  of  guns  on  the  battle¬ 
field  would  effectually  cool  any  romantic  zeal 
you  may  feel  disposed  to  indulge  in  that 
direction.” 

"Then,"  said  Kittie,  darting  a  mischievous 
glance  toward  Adrienne,  "you  do  not  approve 
of  a  woman  taking  active  part  in  defense  of  her 
country?" 

"Not  that  I  am  stilted  in  my  ideas  of  things, 
but  she  would  be  infinitely  more  useful  in  her 
place  at  home  working  for  the  soldiers  who  are 
fighting  for  her  home  and  rights." 

"Bah !"  Kittie  retorted,  half-mockingly,  "that 
is  all  sentimental  bosh.  Suppose,  like  Joan  of 
Arc,  one  of  our.  patriotic  Southern  women 
should  feel  it  a  duty  during  a  serious  conflict, 
to  come  to  the  front?" 

"To  give  you  a  plain  answer,  I  am  sure  I 
could  never  imagine  a  woman  making  herself 
conspicuous  in  any  public  movement,  even 
though  she  be  led  by  the  over-weening  desire  to 
prostrate  herself  on  the  sacred  altar  of  her 
beloved  country." 


10 


Adrienne 


But  this  moment  the  crash  of  a  brass  band 
playing  a  familiar  march,  being  heard  in  the 
street,  the  girls,  forgetting  the  subject  in  hand, 
hurried  away  in  time  to  see  a  company  of 
soldiers,  whose  bayonets,  as  they  paraded  by, 
flashed  and  glittered  in  the  noon-day  sun,  all  of 
whom  were  perfectly  conscious  of  the  many 
bright  eyes  focused  upon  them  from  the  college 
grounds. 

“Speaking  of  angels/'  sang  out  Kittie,  glibly, 
“here  are  the  soldiers  now  marching  on,  which 
reminds  me  my  recitation  in  ancient  history 
comes  in  the  next  'division/  when  I  must  tell  of 
noble  work  accomplished  by  Aristides  in  form¬ 
ing  the  Athenian  Confederacy — instituting 
important  political  reforms,  and  at  last  dying 
in  the  full  confidence  of  his  people.  And  my 
friends,"  cried  Kittie,  now  merrily  striking  the 
attitude  of  a  popular  speaker  as  she  raised  her 
voice  to  be  heard  by  the  laughing  group  of  girls 
near  by,  “I  am  glad  to  say  here  in  the  presence 
of  you  all,  that  I  earnestly  pray  we  of  the  South 
may  be  so  fortunate  as  to  have  a  leader  who  will 
emulate  the  illustrious  statesman  and  general, 
Aristides,  of  ancient  Athenian  renown,  who 
will  free  us  from  the  threatened  voke,  and  estab- 
lish  the  liberty  of  the  Southern  Confederacy. 
But,  hark!  the  chapel  bell  is  calling  us  to  dis¬ 
perse  each  to  her  own  sphere  of  duty."  And 


Adrienne 


11 


now  laughing  gaily,  as  she  beckoned  the  crowd 
of  girls  to  follow,  Kittie  suddenly  vanished 
behind  a  thick  cluster  of  trees. 


CHAPTER  II 


Kittie  McVea  was  the  daughter  of  a  well- 
known  wealthy  Mississippi  planter.  Her  child¬ 
hood  having  been  passed  in  sunny  places, 
naturally  she  was  happy  tempered,  carrying 
about  wTith  her  an  atmosphere  of  fresh  young 
life  that  captured  all  hearts.  It  is  known  that 
opposites  attract  one  another,  so  it  was  not  sur¬ 
prising  that  gay,  debonair  Kittie  should  have 
been  won  by  the  sweet  gravity  of  Adrienne  de 
Courcelles,  whose  exquisite  personality  drew 
her  irresistibly  within  the  charmed  circle  of  her 
influence,  a  cordial  friendship  at  once  develop¬ 
ing  between  them  that  was  to  endure  the  test  of 
years. 

It  was  in  the  morning,  a  week  later  than  the 
foregoing,  that  Kittie  was  running  headlong 
down  the  chapel  stairway  when  she  came  sud¬ 
denly  upon  Adrienne  standing  beside  the 
window  on  the  landing,  deeply  absorbed  in  the 
contents  of  a  letter.  Her  curiosity  awakened 
by  the  look  of  unusual  gravity  on  Adrienne’s 
face,  she  asked  abruptly, 

“Unpleasant  news,  Adrienne?” 

The  girl,  raising  her  eyes,  answered  with  a 
sad  inflection  in  her  voice,  “Your  surmise  is 


Adrienne 


13 


correct.  This  letter  is  from  my  guardian,  Mrs. 
Somers  of  New  Orleans,  you  know,  urging  me 
to  return  to  the  city  without  delay.” 

“Upon  my  word,”  Kittie  blurted  out,  indig¬ 
nantly,  “what  has  induced  her  to  hurry  you  off, 
without  so  much  as  consulting  your  choice  in 
the  matter  ?” 

“Though  it  would  never  enter  my  head  to 
question  the  propriety  of  my  guardian  removing 
me  from  school  at  pleasure,”  said  Adrienne, 
reflectively,  “I  must  admit  that  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
fathom  this  sudden  demand,  unless,  indeed,  it  is 
on  account  of  the  floating  war  reports,  together 
with  the  fact  that  Charles,  her  only  son,  who 
has  already  enlisted  in  the  army,  is  looking 
every  day  to  be  sent  to  the  front  in  Virginia. 
Ah!  as  he  is  his  mother’s  idol,  I  know  it  will 
break  her  heart  to  see  him  go.  I  remember  so 
well  that  his  Chesterfield  manners  were  my 
childish  admiration,  but  his  inordinate  disposi¬ 
tion  to  tease  was  always  a  bug-bear  to  me.” 

“But,  Adrienne,”  Kittie  here  interrupted, 
“tell  me  of  your  father,  whom  you  have  been 
expecting  so  anxiously.  Has  he  yet  reached 
America  ?” 

“Alas!”  she  answered,  trying  to  steady  her 
voice,  while  a  melancholy  shadow  crept  into  hei 
eyes,  “I  am  beeinning  to  fear  this  trouble 
between  the  North  and  South  has  entirely 


14 


Adrienne 


upset  his  plans,  and  perhaps  will  delay  his 
coming  indefinitely.” 

“Oh,  well,”  was  the  soothing  reply,  for  Kittie 
had  noticed  the  quiver  on  Adrienne’s  lips,  and 
the  starting  tears  in  her  eyes,  “you  should  not 
let  this  unfortunate  condition  in  the  affairs  of 
our  country  worry  and  distress  you  too  much. 
1  am  sure  all  will  come  right  in  the  end.  Mean¬ 
time,  when  you  are  gone,  Adrienne,  it  will  be 
so  lonely  here  for  me,  I  have  decided  to  quickly 
follow  your  example.” 

“Would  not  that  be  sheer  nonsense,  Kittie, 
when  it  is  your  privilege  to  remain  through  the 
session  ?  As  for  me,  alas !  my  duty  is  so  plain, 
that  no  matter  how  reluctant  I  feel,  I  must  set 
to  work  to  make  preparations  to  leave.” 

Knowing  Adrienne’s  departure  would  be  the 
initial  step  toward  breaking  up  the  school, 
which  he  felt  powerless  to  prevent,  the  president 
evidently  was  very  much  annoyed  at  receiving 
the  peremptory  message  from  her  guardian. 

In  the  mean  while,  Adrienne  and  Kittie 
employed  the  few  hours  left  to  them  in  the 
endeavor  to  conceal  behind  smiles  the  real 
sorrow  they  were  feeling  at  being  so  unex¬ 
pectedly  separated.  But  when  they  parted  at 
last  at  the  carriage  door,  Kittie’s  face  grew  sad 
as  she  said, 

“Have  you  thought,  Adrienne,  of  how  differ¬ 
ent  things  will  be  when  we  meet  again?  We 


Adrienne 


15 


have  been  so  free  from  care  and  responsibility 
all  these  months,  at  school,  that  it  is  only 
reasonable  to  expect  a  great  change  to  come  in 
our  lives.” 

“The  change  may  prove  unpleasant,  but  we 
must  be  cheerful  and  patient  under  the  trial. 
For  what  would  be  the  good  of  looking  on  the 
dark  side,  and  thus  rob  life  of  much  of  its 
brightness  by  borrowing  trouble?” 

“Ah,  Adrienne,  I  know  so  well  your  faculty 
for  discovering  the  ‘silver  lining.7  But  I  must 
acknowledge  that  I  find  it  difficult  to  smile 
when  I  am  parting  from  a  dear  friend,  with  so 
vague  a  prospect  of  meeting  again.” 

“I  am  certain,  Kittie,  there  is  no  way  but  to 
run  the  race  before  us  to  the  fulfilment  of  our 
destiny  as  cheerfully  as  possible,”  was 
Adrienne’s  practical  answer,  though  a  veiled 
sadness  was  in  her  eyes.  But  the  ready  protest 
on  Kittie’s  lips  being  cut  short  by  the  moving 
carriage,  Adrienne  scarcely  had  time  to  wave 
a  tender,  smiling  adieu  to  her  weeping  friend, 
when,  by  a  sudden  turn  in  the  street,  it  disap¬ 
peared  from  sight. 

Adrienne  sank  back  on  the  carriage  seat, 
heaving  a  deep  sigh,  as  she  gave  herself  up  to 
a  moment  of  reverie.  “Ah,”  was  her  thought, 
“I  have  started  out  at  last  on  the  road  that  will 
finally  lead  to  my  father,  and  though  the  way 


16 


Adrienne 


may  be  long,  and  perhaps  beset  with  difficul¬ 
ties  and  delays,  I  am  resolved  to  press  on,  let¬ 
ting  nothing  hold  me  back  until  I  reach  his  lov¬ 
ing  arms.” 


CHAPTER  III 


At  length,  after  hours  of  tedious  travel  over 
a  rough  road,  the  train  steamed  into  the  noisy 
depot  at  the  city  of  New  Orleans.  Adrienne, 
who  kept  her  seat  until  the  rush  of  departing 
passengers  had  subsided  somewhat,  all  at  once 
observed  approaching  a  soldier  in  the  uniform 
of  an  officer,  whose  roving  glance  over  the  pass¬ 
ing  crowd  soon  wandered  to  her  smiling  eyes. 
For,  though  he  had  grown  into  stalwart  man¬ 
hood  since  their  last  meeting,  she  had  not  failed 
readily  to  recognize  him,  and  springing  to  her 
feet  with  out-stretched  hand,  she  cried, 
“Charles,  is  it  really  you  ?” 

His  face  lighted  up  with  an  eager  smile  as 
he  made  his  way  to  her,  taking  her  hand  in  his 
own,  and  regarding  her  features  with  a  warm 
admiring  gaze  as  he  said, 

“And  you  are  Adrienne,  who  left  us  a  little 
girl  seven  years  ago.  But  the  only  familiar 
feature  I  find  in  so  grown-up  a  young  lady  is 
the  bright  welcome  in  the  same  great  dark  eyes 
of  your  childhood.” 

“Have  I  indeed  changed  so  much?”  and  she 
laughed  delightfully  as  she  ran  her  amused 
eyes  over  his  smart  uniform.  “But,  Charles, 


18 


Adrienne 


though  I  knew  you  at  a  glance,  I  must  admit 
your  transformation  in  this  regalia  is  simply 
marvelous,  not  to  say  anything  of  the  change  in 
your  appearance  in  other  respects,  since  we 
parted  seven  years  ago.  And  do  you  know,  I 
have  experienced  no  small  amount  of  curiosity 
in  regard  to  your  mother  having  consented  that 
you  should  join  the  army.” 

“But  she  has  never  consented,”  was  the  grave 
response,  “nor  can  she  be  induced  to  allude  to 
the  subject;  concluding,  I  suppose,  since  em¬ 
ploying  a  substitute  would  not  be  compatible 
with  her  idea  of  patriotic  principles,  there  is  no 
help  for  it;  and  very  soon,  Adrienne,  I  shall 
have  to  resign  mv  place  at  my  mother’s  side, 
and  go  forth  in  the  discharge  of  duty  into  new 
and  strange  paths.  But  the  assurance  that  you 
are  with  her  will  indeed  be  comforting  to  me 
in  my  absence,  whether  in  tent  or  upon  the  bat¬ 
tle-field.”  His  eyes,  as  he  spoke,  were  bent 
upon  the  lovely  face  of  the  girl  at  his  side, 
whose  quick  look  of  concern  up  into  his  grave 
face  told  of  the  great  sympathy  she  held  in  her 
heart  for  him. 

“You  know,  Charles,  that  however  anxious 
I  am  to  do  all  I  can  for  my  guardian,  I  shall 
not  be  able  to  fill  your  place  in  any  sense  of  the 
word.” 

“Nevertheless,  I  am  confident  of  happy  re¬ 
sults.  And  if  mother  can  succeed  in  maintain- 


Adrienne 


19 


ing  this  apparent  tranquil  frame  of  mind  I  shall 
be  able  to  leave  for  Virginia  with  at  least  some 
degree  of  self-command.”  Having  reached  the 
carriage  during  these  remarks,  Charles  now 
placed  Adrienne  on  the  back  seat,  following 
and  taking  the  seat  beside  her.  But  during 
their  transit  between  the  depot  and  Mrs.  Som¬ 
ers’s  residence,  the  girl,  now  conscious  of  feel¬ 
ing  utterly  worn  out,  pressed  her  aching  head 
against  the  cushioned  back  of  the  carriage,  clos¬ 
ing  her  eyes,  when  presently  Charles  turned  and 
addressed  her. 

“By  the  way,  Adrienne,  I  must  not  forget  to 
mention  that  we  are  expecting  guests  at  the 
house  this  evening,  several  of  whom,  knowing 
you  are  to  arrive,  are  looking  forward  to  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  you.” 

She  raised  her  head  with  a  tired  little  shake, 
but  her  eyes  brightened  as  she  said, 

“There  is  nothing,  I  am  sure,  that  would  give 
me  more  pleasure  than  meeting  your  friends; 
but  I  shall  have  to  own  that  I  prefer  a  little  rest 
to  anything  this  evening.” 

Charles  meditated  a  jocose  reply,  but  stoop¬ 
ing  and  scanning  the  girl’s  face,  now  looking 
so  white  by  the  light  of  passing  street  lamps, 
changed  his  mind,  and  said  gravely, 

“As  you  are  looking  a  trifle  fagged, 
Adrienne,  I  shall  see  to  it  that  you  are  allowed 
to  pass  unmolested  up  to  your  room,  shut  your- 


20 


Adrienne 


self  in,  and  resign  your  body  and  mind  to  the  so 
much  needed  rest.” 

“You  are  thoughtful,  and  I  thank  you,”  she 
said,  with  a  quick  smile  into  his  eyes. 

This  moment,  the  carriage  drawing  up  in 
front  of  a  brightly  lighted  residence,  Charles 
promptly  assisting  Adrienne  out,  led  the  way 
up  the  steps  to  the  entrance  and  rang  the  bell. 
The  door  suddenly  opened  and  Mrs.  Somers  in 
person  stood  before  them.  Adrienne  seized  her 
hands. 

“This  is  pleasant,  indeed !”  said  she.  “I  never 
would  have  known  you,  Adrienne!”  and  she 
took  the  girl  affectionately  into  her  arms,  and 
kissed  her  tenderly.  Then  drawing  her  under 
the  hall  light,  proceeded  to  regard  the  beautiful 
face  with  pleasure  and  interest,  the  girl  herself 
feeling  rather  embarrassed  under  so  much  pro¬ 
found,  eager  scrutiny. 

“Naturally,”  she  replied,  the  low,  sweet  voice 
delighting  her  guardian,  “the  lapse  of  seven 
years  would  bring  about  a  change  in  a  growing- 
girl.  But,  Mrs.  Somers,  I  am  truly  glad  to 
find  you  the  same.  Your  brow  is  every  whit  as 
smooth  as  I  remember,  when  a  child,  to  have 
noticed  it,  and  your  eyes  have  the  same  flash  of 
vigorous  thought — ”  But  here  the  words  were 
arrested  upon  her  lips  by  a  ripple  of  merry 
laughter  coming  from  the  direction  of  the  par- 


Adrienne 


21 


lors,  when  Mrs.  Somers,  turning  hurriedly  to 
Charles,  said, 

“Sure  enough,  my  son,  our  guests  are  all 
here,  and  among  them  is  Belle  Conrad.  And 
as  we  must  attend  to  our  duties,  I  will  insist, 
Adrienne,  that  you  go  to  your  room  at  once, 
for  I  know  you  are  very  tired.” 

“Yes,  Adrienne,”  laughed  Charles,  “you  cer¬ 
tainly  have  quite  a  dilapidated  look.  So  I  am 
sure  the  bed  is  the  best  place  for  you.” 

“Here,  Marie,”  Mrs.  Somers  said  to  the  maid 
this  moment  passing  through  the  hall,  “show 
Miss  de  Courcelles  to  her  room.  I  hope  you 
will  pardon  my  not  going  with  you,  Adrienne. 
Be  sure  and  bring  the  roses  in  your  cheeks  when 
you  come  down  in  the  morning.  Good-night, 
child ;  Marie  will  see  to  all  your  wants.  Come, 
Charles,”  and  as  they  moved  away  in  the  direc¬ 
tion  of  the  parlors,  Adrienne  turned  and  fol¬ 
lowed  the  French  maid  up  the  long  stairway  to 
her  room,  which  she  found  so  lovely,  airy,  and 
soothing  to  her  tired  senses  that,  with  a  sigh  of 
relief,  she  began  to  prepare  for  bed,  and  was 
soon  lying  among  dainty  pillows  sleeping 
peacefully  as  a  little  child,  unconscious  of  the 
sounds  of  gaiety  floating  up  to  her  room  from 
the  parlors  below. 


CHAPTER  IV 


Adrienne  made  a  tardy  entrance  into  the 
breakfast-room  the  next  morning,  a  little  pale 
perhaps,  but  wonderfully  lovely.  Charles,  who 
had  finished  the  meal,  and  had  turned  aside 
scanning  the  morning  paper,  greeted  her  with 
a  cordial  smile,  coming  forward  to  meet  her, 
and  saying,  with  hearty  cheerfulness  as  he  led 
her  to  the  table  and  placed  her  in  a  chair, 

“I  judge  by  the  brightness  on  your  face, 
Adrienne,  that  the  goddess  of  sleep  was  not 
wooed  in  vain.  I  am  truly  glad  you  escaped 
the  bustle  that  seems  always  to  attend  even  so 
small  a  gathering.” 

“You  are  very  flattering,”  she  laughed,  “if 
you  would  insinuate  that  I  have  nerves  of  a 
rheumatic,  and  would  be  morbidly  sensitive  to 
the  sound  of  a  little  merriment.  On  the  con¬ 
trary,  I  was  oblivious  to  everything  until  the 
break  of  day,  and  this  morning  find  myself 
fully  restored  and  in  my  right  mind.” 

“But,  do  you  know,  my  child,”  Mrs.  Som¬ 
ers  interrupted,  as  she  busied  herself  pouring 
out  a  cup  of  coffee  for  Adrienne,  “I  have  just 
been  lamenting  to  Charles  that  you  have  for¬ 
feited  a  diploma  by  leaving  school  so  early.” 


Adrienne 


23 


Adrienne  suppressed  an  open  smile  at  this,  as 
she  turned  to  her  guardian  and  said  with  amuse¬ 
ment  in  her  eyes,  but  indifference  in  her  voice, 
“I  am  sure  my  future  welfare  and  happiness 
will  not  be  materially  injured  by  the  loss,  and 
hope  you  will  not  think  me  odd  if  I  frankly 
confess  that  I  have  given  the  matter  very  little 
thought.  For  what,  indeed,  does  the  mere  form 
of  graduating  signify?” 

‘‘You  surprise  me,  Adrienne,”  said  Charles, 
shrugging  his  shoulders,  while  a  quizzical  smile 
played  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth.  “And  cer¬ 
tainly  you  are  unlike  other  girls,  who  are  de¬ 
lighted  at  drawing  public  notice  and  applause 
upon  their  personal  attractions,  as  well  as  their 
intellectual  attainments.” 

She  glanced  up  quickly,  with  a  laugh  in  her 
lovely  eyes  as  she  answered, 

“Never  fear,  Charles,  that  I  am  an  excep¬ 
tion  to  the  majority  of  giddy  girls  who  are 
flattered  by  commendation  and  applause,  nor 
do  I  claim  indifference  to  striking  effect  in  the 
sense  to  which  you  allude.  But,  pardon  me,  I 
should  so  much  like  to  know  something  of  the 
doings  of  the  city  under  the  present  military 
regime  ?” 

“As  a  matter  of  fact,  Adrienne” — he  paused, 
looking  down  upon  the  bright  face  with  a  smile 
— “the  city,  socially,  is  topsy-turvy.  But  I 


24 


Adrienne 


know  so  little  of  what  is  going  on  outside.  I 
am  not  prepared  to  give  you  the  desired  infor¬ 
mation.  Of  one  thing,  however,  I  am  ready 
to  assure  you  of  my  own  command,  that  our 
display  of  regimentals  on  the  parade  ground 
never  fails  to  call  forth  from  the  New  Orleans 
circle  a  number  of  the  gay  and  fashionable.  All 
of  which,  should  you  feel  disposed  to  accompa¬ 
ny  me  this  afternoon,  may  give  you  pleasure 
to  see.” 

“Oh,  I  should  be  so  pleased,"  she  said,  in 
accents  attesting  her  delight  at  his  proposal. 

“All  right,”  was  the  hearty  rejoinder,  “then 
I  shall  be  on  hand  in  time  to  take  quite  a  drive 
before  the  dinner  hour.  But  as  I  am  now  due 
at  camp,  I  must  be  off.  Remember,  Adrienne,” 
he  called  out  as  he  hurried  from  the  room,  “I 
shall  be  here  promptly  at  the  appointed  time. 
Au  revoir.” 

“I  trust,  Adrienne,”  said  Mrs.  Somers,  as 
the  door  closed  behind  Charles,  now  giving  the 
opportunity  for  which  the  girl  had  been  wish¬ 
ing  so  much,  “the  sudden  summons  home  was 
not  a  shock  to  you.  I  thought  you  would 
understand  that  it  was  caused  by  the  uproar 
and  excitement  in  our  land,  which  decided  me 
to  bring  you  away  from  school  before  the  sit¬ 
uation  should  grow  too  serious.” 


Adrienne 


25 


“It  is  no  doubt  for  the  best.  But,  do  you 
know/’  she  said,  slowly  and  dejectedly,  her 
voice  trembling  under  restrained  emotion,  “this 
trouble  in  our  country  has  a  sorrowful  mean¬ 
ing  for  me.  For  I  indeed  realize  how  fruitless 
any  attempt  would  be  from  my  father  to  reach 
me,  and  I  am  bitterly  disappointed.” 

“Really,  Adrienne,”  Mrs.  Somers  answered, 
much  moved  with  pity  and  kindness  at  the 
girl’s  keen  distress,  “I  cannot  say  how  much 
I  sympathize  with  you,  and  am  glad  you  have 
made  up  your  mind  to  speak  of  your  father,  as 
it  will  be  a  relief  to  you  and  will  do  you  good. 
But  I  advise  you  not  to  fret  and  grow  melan¬ 
choly  over  circumstances  that  are  a  little  dis¬ 
couraging*,  I  admit,  but  feel  nevertheless  mat¬ 
ters  will  regulate  themselves  in  time,  while  this 
trouble  between  the  North  and  South  will  soon 
blow  over.  Meantime,  my  child,  you  should 
consider  the  pleasure  and  comfort  you  will  be 
to  me,  until  your  father  shall  take  you  away 
to  his  distant  home  in  the  East,  where,  I  am 
certain,  he  intends  residing  permanently.  Con¬ 
sequently,  we  may  never  expect  you  to  return 
and  be  one  of  us  again.” 

At  this  moment,  however,  there  was  a  sud¬ 
den  check  to  the  conversation,  as  Hans,  the 
man  servant,  opened  the  door  and  announced 
“Mrs.  Vincent.”  Mrs.  Somers,  rising  at  once, 


26 


Adrienne 


and  moving  forward,  greeted  her  guest  most 
cordially,  then  turned  to  Adrienne.  “Mrs.  Vin¬ 
cent,  this  is  my  ward,  Adrienne  de  Courcelles, 
of  whom  you  have  often  heard  me  speak.” 

“I  can’t  say  how  pleased  I  am  to  meet  you, 
Miss  de  Courcelles,”  the  light  of  pleasure  and 
admiration  shining  in  her  eyes  as  she  bent  them 
upon  the  girl,  at  the  same  time  pressing  her 
hand  warmly.  As  they  were  seating  them¬ 
selves,  talking  pleasantly  together,  Mrs.  Vin¬ 
cent  said, 

“I  must  explain,  Mrs.  Somers,  having  only 
a  moment  to  spare,  that  my  informal  call  this 
morning  is  prompted  by  my  desire  to  meet  and 
invite  your  ward  in  person  to  a  reception  at  my 
house  Thursday  evenino-  next,  given  in  honor 
of  all  my  young  New  Orleans  acquaintances, 
among  whom,  Miss  Adrienne,”  now  smiling 
sweetly  upon  the  girl,  “I  am  anxious  to  include 
you.  And  as  you  have  Captain  Somers,  who 
will  take  great  delight  in  escorting  you,  besides 
there  will  be  no  opposition  from  your  euardian, 
I  shall  not  expect  a  refusal.” 

“On  the  contrary,”  returned  Adrienne,  in 
tones  of  girlish  candor,  pleasure  dancing  in  her 
eyes,  “I  shall  only  be  too  delighted,  and  thank 
you  very  much.” 


Adrienne 


27 


Now  drawing  her  eyes  slowly  away  from 
Adrienne’s  beautiful  face,  Mrs.  Vincent  re¬ 
marked, 

“I  can  imagine,  Mrs.  Somers,  since  it  has 
been  my  misfortune  to  be  shut  out  from  re¬ 
turning  to  my  home  in  Washington  City,  what 
a  relief  it  must  be,  during  all  this  tumult  and 
confusion  of  war,  to  have  your  ward  away  from 
a  distant  boarding-school.  I  little  thought 
when  I  came  to  New  Orleans  for  the  benefit  of 
a  mild  winter,  such  an  unpleasant  delay  was  in 
store  for  me.  But  I  am  philosophical,  by 
nature,  and  thinking  it  wise  to  yield  gracefully 
to  the  inevitable,  I  am  not  spending  my  time 
bemoaning  my  fate.  I  am  sorry  indeed,  ladies, 
to  tear  myself  away  from  your  good  company, 
but  as  I  have  started  out  this  morning  with 
every  hour  engaged,  I  shall  really  have  to  take 
my  departure  and  hurry  on.  We  will  soon 
meet  again.  Adieu.” 

When  the  carriage  rolled  away  from  the 
door,  Adrienne  sat  a  moment,  with  a  look  of 
dreamy  thoughtfulness  in  her  eyes,  thinking  of 
the  dignified  repose  in  Mrs.  Vincent’s  bearing, 
and  the  charm  of  her  fascinating  face.  Then 
remembering  her  promise  to  Ivittie,  that  she 
would  write  her  immediately  upon  her  arrival 
home,  ran  up  to  her  room,  and  soon,  with  fly¬ 
ing  pen,  was  giving  a  graphic  account,  for  Kit- 


28 


Adrienne 


tie’s  amusement,  of  some  of  her  experiences  on 
her  way  down  to  the  city,  not  forgetting  to 
mention,  at  the  close,  the  delightful  drive  with 
Charles  she  had  in  anticipation  that  very  after¬ 
noon  to  see  her  first  field  drill. 


CHAPTER  V 


True  to  his  appointment,  Charles,  looking 
spick-and-span  in  his  uniform,  drove  up  in  an 
open  Victoria.  Seeing  Adrienne  already  seated 
in  the  cool  shade  of  the  veranda,  looking  lovely 
in  her  dainty,  beautiful  dress,  swinging  down 
from  the  carriage  and  coming  quickly  up  to  her, 
he  said,  in  laughing  tones, 

“To  the  minute,  Miss  de  Courcelles.  This  is 
punctuality  indeed. ” 

She  rose  to  her  feet,  with  a  ripple  of  humor 
in  her  eyes,  as  the  ready  retort  came  from  her 
lips, 

“My  punctuality  being  simply  in  accordance 
with  Captain  Somers’s  express  request  upon 
leaving  the  house  this  morning,  I  can’t  see  why 
it  should  be  so  great  a  surprise.  I  am  sure  I 
could  not  afford  to  delay  our  first  engagement.” 

“I  hope  Miss  de  Courcelles  will  allow  me  to 
say,”  bowing  apologetically,  “That  I  think  she 
has  set  a  worthy  example  to  her  charming 
sisters,  who  rarely  practice  the  virtue,  prefer¬ 
ring  rather  to  regard  it  a  trait  of  minor  con¬ 
sideration,  and  very  little  worth  their  while  to 
cultivate.” 


30 


Adrienne 


“Ah,”  she  answered,  turning  her  eyes  on  him 
full  of  smiling  irony,  “I  must  confess  to  have 
been  taken  altogether  unawares  by  Captain 
Somers’s  flattering  opinion  of  my  charming 
sisters.” 

“I  must  apologize  again,  for  words  that  seem 
to  have  so  rudely  offended  Miss  de  Courcelles’s 
sensitive  ear,”  he  laughed  genially,  “and  will 
suggest,  as  time  waits  for  no  man,  the  propriety 
of  starting  out  on  our  drive.  It  is  now  five 
o’clock  to  the  minute,”  turning  the  face  of  his 
watch  toward  her  for  inspection.  “I  regret  to 
say  that  our  road,  at  this  angle  of  the  blazing 
sun,  does  not  lead  through  the  sweetly  smelling 
country,  nor  does  it  pass  beneath  the  edges  of 
shady  woods.  But  we  shall  have  protection 
part  of  the  way  at  least  under  the  shadow  of 
tall  buildings.” 

They  started  off  in  hilarious  spirits,  Adrienne 
the  while  laughing  merrily  over  Charles’s  fre¬ 
quent  gay  sallies.  But  the  carriage,  presently 
turning  aside  from  the  crowded  part  of  the  city, 
was  rolling  slowly  down  the  street  leading  be¬ 
side  the  river  front,  when  Charles  suddenly 
called  Adrienne’s  attention  to  a  beautiful  ves¬ 
sel,  all  white  and  gold,  lying  anchored  some 
distance  out  on  the  calm  unruffled  water.  The 
sailors  standing  round  in  groups  on  the  decks, 
uniformed  in  white,  their  caps  ornamented 


Adrienne 


31 


with  gold  bands,  added  an  indescribable  grace 
and  beauty  to  the  picture,  upon  which  the  girl 
gazed  in  silent  delight. 

“What  kind  of  craft  is  it,  Charles?”  she 
asked  directly,  with  a  little  catch  in  her  voice. 

“See,  Adrienne,”  he  returned,  “the  British 
colors  flying  from  the  foremast  ?  It  is  an  Eng¬ 
lish  yacht.  Mr.  Strafford,  with  whom  I  am 
acquainted,  accompanies  his  ship.  He  is  on  a 
pleasure  cruise  and  has  been  anchored  in  our 
port  quite  awhile.  Judging  by  the  length  of  his 
stay,  he  must  have  found  something  of  interest 
to  detain  him.  Ah,  there  he  is  now,  coming 
ashore.” 

Turning  her  eyes  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  Charles,  she  saw  a  small  white  boat  rapidly 
nearing  the  landing,  soon  disembarking  its  one 
passenger,  whom  she  discovered,  as  he  crossed 
over  to  the  waiting  carriage,  in  which  he  took 
his  seat  and  was  whirled  away,  was  of  emi¬ 
nently  distinguished  bearing,  tall  and  erect. 

“Do  you  know,  Adrienne,”  presently  said 
Charles,  with  a  gleam  of  irony  in  his  eyes,  giv¬ 
ing  his  usual  short  laugh,  “I  am  just  reminded 
of  the  fact  .that  the  present  war  excitement  is 
surely  an  impediment  in  the  way  of  this  Eng¬ 
lishman  becoming  the  celebrity  our  gay-plu- 
maged  society  birds  have  conspired  to  make 
him,  so  evident  is  the  flutter  of  their  brilliant 


32 


Adrienne 


wings,  if  perchance  a  glance  from  his  High¬ 
ness  should  fall  on  them.  Young  ladies — is  it 
not  so? — in  the  matter  of  a  sensation  are  pro¬ 
verbially  gregarious.” 

“Have  a  care,  Charles,”  she  said,  flashing 
on  him  a  look  of  laughing  rebuke.  “I  find  that 
it  is  well  for  my  peace  of  mind  there  is  a  tacit 
agreement  between  you  and  me  to  approach 
this  subject  very  gingerly.” 

“I  crave  your  pardon,”  throwing  her  a  look 
tinged  with  raillery,  “and  beg  of  you — with  a 
promise  never  to  repeat  the  blunder — to  bear 
with  me  this  time.” 

They  were  now  progressing  rapidly  over  a 
hot,  dusty  highway,  exposed  to  the  piercing 
rays  of  the  afternoon  sun,  which  Adrienne 
managed  to  partially  ward  off  by  the  gossamer 
protection  of  her  delicate  lace  sunshade.  On 
turning  aside  at  last  into  an  opening  over  which 
the  entire  stretch  for  miles  seemed  covered  with 
soldiers’  tents,  Adrienne  soon  forgot,  in  con¬ 
templating  the  novelty  of  the  scene  before  her 
eyes,  the  uncomfortable  drive.  The  field  was 
occupied  by  several  artillery  companies,  en¬ 
gaged  in  going  through  the  maneuvers  of  the 
drill  in  obedience  to  clarion  notes  of  command 
ringing  out  on  the  rich  glory  of  the  brilliant 
summer  afternoon,  filling  her  soul  with  a  deep¬ 
er  glow  of  patriotic  fervor,  as  she  began  to 


Adrienne 


33 


realize  why  brave  men  fearlessly  face  danger, 
and  nobly  sacrifice  their  lives  for  what  they 
deem  the  Cause  of  Right.  But  the  thought  sud¬ 
denly  springing  into  her  mind  that  she  could 
claim  neither  father,  brother,  nor  any  other 
kindred  in  ranks,  brought  with  it  a  sense  of  iso¬ 
lation  that  saddened  her  spirits,  and  settled  her 
features  into  a  gravity  and  sadness  infinitely 
touching.  The  next  moment,  allowing  her  eyes 
to  wander  slowly  down  the  long  line  of  visit¬ 
ing  carriages  drawn  up  within  the  enclosure, 
filled  with  the  elite  of  the  Crescent  Citv, — with 
young  ladies  whose  faces  were  alight  with 
bright  expectant  smiles, — all  at  once  her  glance 
fell  upon  the  familiar  face  of  Mrs.  Vincent,  who 
sat,  in  company  with  a  beautiful  blond  young 
lady,  in  one  of  the  most  elegant  equipages 
present.  Adrienne  felt  irresistibly  drawn  to¬ 
ward  the  wonderful  beauty  of  this  fair  yet  dis¬ 
dainful-looking  young  lady,  and  gazed  upon 
her  precisely  as  she  would  have  regarded  an 
exquisite  ideal  “head”  from  under  the  creative 
brush  of  some  famous  artist.  And  so  absorbed 
was  she  in  her  silent  occupation  that  to  Charles, 
who  had  been  trying  to  get  her  attention,  she 
scarcely  gave  heed. 

“See,  Adrienne,”  he  persisted,  “the  officer 
in  command  this  afternoon  is  Major  Winthrop, 
a  brave  soldier,  who  will  early  win  distinction, 


34 


Adrienne 


which  to  my  mind  (though  it  is  said  he  is  an 
all-round  society  man,  and  a  favorite  with  the 
ladies)  is  the  most  important  and  attractive  of 
his  characteristics.  But  I  feel  for  him  at  pres¬ 
ent  the  sincerest  commiseration  in  that  he  is 
suffering  from  the  pangs  of  unrequited  love,  of 
which  Miss  Belle  Conrad  is  the  object.  Yet  it 
seems  strange  indeed  that  he  should  not  have 
so  profited  by  observation  as  to  have  spared  his 
pride  at  least  the  mortification  of  such  a 
tumble.” 

“Is  it  not  so,  Charles,  that  in  a  similar  situa¬ 
tion  you  would  have  done  the  profiting?”  said 
Adrienne,  glancing  into  his  face  with  a  breezy 
little  smile.  “But  pardon  me,”  she  quickly 
amended,  now  noting  the  rush  of  color  over  his 
face,  and  the  shadow  that  momentarily 
darkened  his  eyes.  “Your  remark  is  somewhat 
enigmatical  to  one  who  has  not  the  slightest 
knowledge  of  the  two  in  question,  and  now  I 
would  suggest  that  in  order  to  avoid  the  dust 
and  press  of  the  crowd  we  should  take  advan¬ 
tage  of  the  comfort  of  leaving  before  it  begins 
to  move.” 

Having  recovered  himself,  Charles  readily 
agreed  to  this.  But  the  next  moment  dis¬ 
covered,  as  they  turned  into  the  road  skirting 
the  camp,  they  were  not  alone  in  the  desire  to 
escape  the  crowd.  An  open  carriage,  in  which 


Adrienne 


35 


a  distinguished-looking  man  was  sole  occupant, 
passed  them,  who,  as  he  lifted  his  hat  to 
Charles,  at  the  same  time  riveted  his  eyes  upon 
Adrienne,  calling  forth  from  Charles  a  short 
laugh  as  he  turned  to  the  girl  and  said  teasingly, 

‘‘His  Highness,  the  Englishman,  Adrienne, 
whose  open  stare  of  admiration  at  you ,  leaving 
your  humble  servant  altogether  out  of  the  ques¬ 
tion,  overstepped  the  bounds  of  good  breeding. 
However,  as  I  do  not  feel  in  the  humor  for  a 
weighty  discussion,  I  am  disposed  to  pass  the 
matter  over  lightly.” 

But  there  being  no  response  to  this  little  piece 
of  satire, — the  girl  having  turned  her  face 
away,  eagerly  watching  the  flying  objects  by 
the  roadside, — the  irrepressible  Charles  began 
to  descant  volubly  upon  the  merits  and  charms 
of  his  many  lady  acquaintances,  among  whom 
Mrs.  Vincent  was  prominent  in  her  share  of 
admiration  and  praise,  Adrienne  listening 
dreamily  as  they  bowled  along  through  the 
sweetly  scented  air,  over  the  beautiful  shell 
road  toward  the  city.  But  turning,  directly,  she 
said  in  a  deprecating  way, 

“My  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Vincent  is  very 
slight  indeed,  but  I  had  fancied  her  different 
from  what  you  are  pleased  to  term  her  devo¬ 
tion  to  fashionable  circles.  She  impressed  me 
as  one  whose  pleasures  and  pursuits  are  of  the 


36 


Adrienne 


more  highly  intellectual — far  above  the  aspira¬ 
tions  of  a  mere  worldling.” 

“For  the  life  of  me,  Adrienne,”  he  said,  with 
droll  assumption  of  seriousness,  “I  can’t 
imagine  wherein  one’s  partiality  for  fashionable 
circles  should  clash  with  one’s  higher  intellec¬ 
tual  training,  or  even  spiritual  pursuits.  With 
your  sober  ideas  of  life,  how  do  you  propose 
employing  your  time  from  day  to  day?  But 
instead  of  trying  to  grapple  something  beyond 
your  reach,  causing  you  to  grow  old  before 
your  time,  I  would  advise  you  to  cultivate  a 
taste  for  the  ‘giddy  whirl,’  and  laugh  while  you 
may.” 

“Alas,  Charles,”  she  said,  while  an  odd  little 
smile  played  over  her  features,  “my  only  pur¬ 
pose  in  life,  which  supersedes  everything  else  to 
me,  is  to  press  forward  on  the  road  that  will 
take  me  to  my  father.  Nevertheless,  I  thank 
you  for  the  concern  you  so  flatteringly  mani¬ 
fest  on  my  behalf,  and  for  the  earnest  sugges¬ 
tions  you  have  offered  with  so  much  wisdom 
and  consideration,  and  promise  you — my 
nature  not  in  the  least  inclined  to  the  ascetic — 
the  world  is  sufficiently  luring  to  prevent  my 
ever  making  a  nun  of  myself.” 

“For  which,”  in  comic  tones  of  relief,  “I  am 
devoutly  thankful.  But  here  we  are  at  the 
house.  By  the  way,  Adrienne,”  now  lifting  her 


Adrienne 


**>  *7 

o/ 


from  the  carriage  with  care,  “please  say  to 
mother  that  I  am  detailed  on  special  duty  this 
evening,  therefore  will  not  be  able  to  dine  at 
home  as  I  had  promised.  Au  revoir,”  and 
springing  back  into  the  carriage,  he  was  soon 
out  of  sight,  while  Adrienne,  now  standing 
alone  on  the  sidewalk,  turned  and  slowly 
walked  into  the  house  with  a  preoccupied  air, 
and  something  like  moisture  in  her  dark  eyes. 


CHAPTER  VI 


Recently  released  from  monotonous  routine 
of  school  days,  naturally  Adrienne  found, 
among-  the  large  circle  of  acquaintances  and 
friends  that  frequented  Mrs.  Somers’s  hospit¬ 
able  residence,  very  pleasant  resource.  But  as 
she  struggled  daily  to  subdue  the  ever-increas¬ 
ing  desire  for  definite  tidings  from  her  father, 
she  had  not  settled  upon  any  plan  for  the  future. 
Meanwhile,  a  long,  irregular  letter  from  Kittie, 
despite  the  fact  it  was  burdened  with  complaints 
from  beginning  to  end,  had  given  her  genuine 
pleasure.  Kittie  declared  that  since  Adrienne’s 
departure  the  college  had  grown  so  insupport¬ 
able,  she  had  concluded  to  put  her  firm  resolu¬ 
tion  to  go  home  into  immediate  effect,  and  with¬ 
in  the  limit  of  a  few  hours  would  be  going  on 
her  way  rejoicing.  Adrienne  sighed.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  this  letter  having  brought  to 
mind  so  vivid  a  recollection  of  her  merry  friend 
Kittie,  that  in  the  evening,  finding  herself  a 
strange  guest  in  the  midst  of  the  gay,  buzzing, 
fashionable  throng  that  filled  to  overflowing 
Mrs.  Vincent’s  brilliant  parlors,  looking  round 
upon  the  lovely  picture  made  by  the  beautiful 
women  in  gleaming  silken  dresses  ornamented 


Adrienne 


39 


with  flashing  jewels,  and  listening  to  the  charm¬ 
ing  ripples  of  laughter  floating  out  on  the  per- 
fume-ladened  air,  her  thoughts  naturally  flew 
back  to  the  gay,  pleasure-loving  Kittie,  who 
would  have  been  in  raptures  over  a  scene  so 
fascinating  and  delightful.  There  was  a  wist¬ 
fulness  in  the  girl’s  eyes  that  touched  Charles, 
and  surmising  the  cause  he  managed  to 
draw  her  on  through  the  exquisitely  dec¬ 
orated  rooms.  As  they  conversed  in  low 
tones,  the  delicate  fragrance  from  a  pro¬ 
fusion  of  flowers,  entrancing  strains  of  music 
coming  from  an  invisible  orchestra,  all  con¬ 
spired  to  smooth  her  spirits  into  a  sensation  of 
dreamy  delight.  But  presently  they  were  com¬ 
pelled  to  halt,  being  wedged  into  a  corner,  oppo¬ 
site  another  couple,  by  the  passing  crowd. 
Facing  this  couple,  both  of  whom  bowed  smil¬ 
ingly  to  Charles,  he  turned  quickly  to  Adrienne, 
and  said, 

“Adrienne,  allow  me  to  introduce  Miss  Con¬ 
rad  and  Mr.  Strafford — Miss  de  Courcelles, 
my  mother’s  ward.” 

With  one  comprehensive  glance,  Adrienne 
knew  the  Englishman,  and  bowed  gracefully, 
with  a  deeper  color  than  usual  on  her  cheek. 
But  recognizing  at  once  in  Miss  Conrad  the 
beautiful  blond  who  had  attracted  her  so  unex- 
plainably,  whom  she  had  seen  in  company  with 


40 


Adrienne 


Mrs.  Vincent  on  the  parade  ground,  she  flushed 
slightly  under  the  scrutiny,  bowing  gracefully 
to  the  well-bred  stare  with  which  Miss  Conrad 
saw  fit  to  favor  her.  After  a  mutual  exchange 
of  courtesies,  however,  they  drifted  apart, 
Charles  and  Adrienne  passing  out  on  the  side¬ 
walk  toward  home,  while  the  beautiful  fair¬ 
faced  woman  and  stately  Englishman  continued 
on  their  way  down  the  crowded  hall,  talking 
freely,  when  suddenly  looking  up  into  the  face 
of  her  escort  Miss  Conrad  idly  remarked, 

“Mr.  Strafford,  did  you  not  observe  how  very 
foreign  in  air  and  look  was  the  young  girl  with 
Charlie  Somers?  Or  were  you  so  dazzled  by 
the  sunshine  of  her  smile  that  you  did  not 
notice  ?” 

“Unquestionably,”  he  replied,  “the  rich  mag¬ 
nolia  tint  of  the  young  lady’s  complexion,  the 
lovely  dreamy  eyes,  and  dusky  hair,  would  pro¬ 
claim  her  foreign  descent.” 

“Ah,”  she  said,  half-laughing,  “are  you  not 
a  close  observer  to  have  noticed  as  much  in  so 
short  a  time  ?” 

“Pardon  me,  but  I  will  say  that  I  have  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  the  young  lady  in  ques¬ 
tion  once  before  this  evening.  Nevertheless,  I 
am  sure  the  unusual  type  of  her  beauty  could 
not  fail  to  attract  in  any  crowd  even  the  passing 
notice  of  an  entire  stranger,”  was  the  deliberate 


Adrienne 


41 


answer,  an  amused  smile  hovering  upon  his 
handsome  mouth,  which,  however,  now  look¬ 
ing  down,  she  did  not  seem  to  see.  She  laughed 
again  lightly,  and  proceeded  to  change  the  con¬ 
versation  into  a  channel  of  more  interest  to  her¬ 
self,  moving  with  ease  from  one  subject  to 
another,  keeping  up  a  lively  chat  as  she  occa¬ 
sionally  wove  into  her  sentences  morsels  of  deli¬ 
cate,  sparkling  wit. 

In  the  mean  time,  Charles  and  Adrienne  had 
been  walking  some  little  distance  through  the 
quiet  streets,  when  the  girl  suddenly  addressed 
him. 

“You  must  not  think  me  silly,  Charles,  if  I 
acknowledge  that  I  have  great  curiosity  to 
know  something  of  this  Miss  Conrad  to  whom 
you  have  just  introduced  me.” 

“And  I  am  able  to  gratify  your  curiosity  only 
in  so  far  that  I  can  assure  you  of  her  nativity  as 
a  Virginian,  of  one  of  the  most  prominent  fami¬ 
lies  in  the  State,  at  present  visiting  a  bachelor 
uncle,  her  father’s  brother,  who  is  living  to 
himself  in  his  lovely  home  in  this  city.  I  am 
sure  you  think  her  beautiful?” 

“ Very emphasized  Adrienne,  “yet  she 
seems  cold  and  disdainful.” 

“Precisely,  you  have  struck  the  keynote  to 
her  nature,”  a  quick,  short  laugh  following  the 
sentence,  though  the  hot  flush  that  spread  over 


42 


Adrienne 


his  face,  but  for  the  friendly  shades  of  night, 
would  have  openly  revealed  the  state  of  his 
heart  to  the  girl’s  observing  eyes. 

“But,  Charles,”  she  answered  dryly,  “after 
a  little  reflection  it  does  seem  that  we  should  be 
more  inclined  to  the  charitable,  and  less  critical 
in  our  thoughts  and  remarks.” 

“I  am  not  uncharitable,  at  all  events,”  he 
laughed,  with  a  slight  tinge  of  bitterness  in  his 
tone,  “when  I  say  the  young  lady’s  manner 
toward  the  Englishman  is  sufficiently  transpar¬ 
ent  to  admit  of  no  misrepresentation.” 

“Charles,”  she  asked,  laughing,  “do  I  not 
detect  a  vein  of  satire  running  through  your 
velvety  tones?” 

“You  have  discovered  possibly  the  rooted 
prejudice  of  a  commoner  toward  the  aristoc¬ 
racy,”  said  he,  with  a  short,  sarcastic  laugh. 

“How  absurd  and  ridiculous  you  grow, 
Charles,  and  what  a  waste  of  words.  Let  us 
get  back  to  something  sensible.” 

“With  all  my  heart.  By  the  way,  Adrienne, 
I  must  not  forget  to  disclose  the  important  fact 
that  I  have  in  my  possession  several  invitations 
to  distribute,  one  each  for  mother  and  yourself, 
to  an  entertainment  given  by  Mr.  Strafford  on 
his  yacht,  under  the  auspices  of  Mrs.  Vincent 
(who,  it  seems,  is  an  acquaintance  of  several 
seasons’  standing)  shortly  before  the  day  fixed 


Adrienne 


43 


for  his  departure  from  port,  in  compliment  to 
the  uptown  ladies,  who  have  received  and 
treated  him  with  so  much  hospitality.  The 
usual  programme — music,  dancing,  moonlight 
promenades  on  deck,  etc. — will  be  the  order  of 
the  evening.  And  I  would  add,  with  your  per¬ 
mission,  that  Miss  Conrad  doubtless  is  indulg¬ 
ing  delightful  anticipations  of  the  coming 
event.  ” 

“Which  is  all  a  fanciful  idea  of  your  own, 
Charles,  though,”  a  sudden  luminous  smile 
lighting  up  her  face,  “it  is  not  to  be  denied 
there  is  sufficient  attraction  to  suggest  the  in¬ 
dulgence.”  And  now  saying  “good-night,”  for 
they  had  reached  the  entrance  at  home,  she  ran 
swiftly  up  the  steps,  and  vanished  through  the 
front  door  before  Charles  could  frame  a  reply. 
Staring  after  her  he  wondered  in  his  own  mind 
if  so  dainty  a  piece  of  femininity  could  really 
be  intentionally  rude.  The  laugh  was  still  on 
Adrienne’s  face  as  she  ran  lightly  up  to  her 
room,  but  she  soon  sank,  tired  and  sleepy,  on 
her  bed,  at  once  blissfully  unconscious  of  the 
worries  that  beset  her  waking  moments  and 
shadowed  her  life  from  day  to  day. 

At  the  same  time,  only  a  few  blocks  away, 
Miss  Conrad  and  Mr.  Strafford  were  standing 
in  front  of  her  own  door,  the  hall  light  now 


44 


Adrienne 


shedding  its  mellow  rays  down  upon  their  faces 
as  she  asserted, 

“Yes,  Mr.  Strafford,  I  have  always  thought 
it  natural  a  stranger  from  abroad  should  be  an 
interesting  personage,  and  hope  you  will  not 
think  me  aggressively  curious  in  wishing  to 
know  your  opinion  of  us  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic — of  our  country  at  this  particular 
crisis. 

“I  am  willing,  Miss  Conrad,  to  freely 
acknowledge  that  the  independent  spirit  I  have 
found  prevailing  in  the  Southern  States  is 
utterly  at  variance  with  the  set  rules  which  have 
controlled  my  life  hitherto.  But,  since  I  have 
breathed,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  the  senti¬ 
ments  of  its  people,  I  have  grown  to  admire 
your  country  so  genuinely  that  I  would  fain 
adopt  its  principles  as  my  -own.” 

“Ah,”  she  interrupted  impulsively,  “perhaps 
we  may  yet  hear  of  you  enlisting  in  our  cause 
to  help  us  in  dire  emergency.” 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  answered 
gravely, 

“The  present  outlook  of  your  country,  Miss 
Conrad,  is  indeed  sad  to  contemplate.  The 
voice  of  liberty  so  dearly  bought  by  the  Ameri¬ 
can  people  will  soon  be  drowned  in  the  con¬ 
fusion  of  the  approaching  contest.  For  in  this 
unfortunate  division,  or  separation  of  the 


Adrienne 


45 


States,  the  Confederates  have  on  their 
shoulders  a  colossal  undertaking,  while  the  op¬ 
posing  section,  in  numbers,  influence,  open 
seas,  and  the  accompanying  prestige  of  sailing 
under  the  stars  and  stripes,  stands  out  pre¬ 
eminently  on  the  vantage  ground.  But  I  will 
say  good-night,  as  I  have  already  detained  you 
too  long  in  the  damp  air.’’  And  with  an  im¬ 
perial  bow  Mr.  Strafford  walked  out  to  the 
waiting  carriage,  while  as  it  rolled  rapidly  on 
its  way  down  the  street  the  young  lady  stood 
with  eyes  bent  upon  the  vanishing  vehicle,  mur¬ 
muring  to  herself,  with  considerable  chagrin, 
“After  all,  his  eagerly  sought  for  opinion  was 
anything  but  clearly  defined,  while  I  am  im¬ 
pressed  with  the  thought,  that  no  matter  how 
genial  he  tries  to  be,  there  is  a  certain  exclu¬ 
siveness  in  his  bearing  that  is  more  in  keeping 
with  the  etiquette  of  a  European  court  than 
our  American  customs  and  unconventionalism. 


CHAPTER  VII 


“What  a  lovely  Sabbath  morning!'’  Adrienne 
exclaimed  aloud  as  she  drew  aside  the  lace  cur¬ 
tains  at  her  window  and  peeped  up  into  the  deep 
blue  summer  sky  now  dotted  over  by  a  few 
fleecy  clouds  floating  lazily  in  the  distance  like 
small  white-winged  ships,  while  as  she  breathed 
the  fragrance  of  tea  roses  from  the  trellis  be¬ 
low  there  was  an  added  thrill  of  delight  run¬ 
ning  through  her  entire  being. 

Resolving  at  once  that  she  would  take  a  stroll 
in  the  beauty  of  the  morning  hours,  she 
announced  her  intention  at  the  breakfast  table 
of  attending  service  at  Trinity  Church.  Mrs. 
Somers  readily  agreed,  adding, 

“The  singing  is  the  attraction,  I  suppose, 
Adrienne.  It  is  very  fine  I  am  told,  and  you 
will  hear  an  eloquent  sermon.  But  as  I  have 
always  made  it  a  rule  never  to  leave  my  own 
church  at  regular  service,  I  shall  have  to  forego 
the  pleasure  of  accompanying  you.” 

“Ah,  Mrs.  Somers,”  the  girl  said  quickly,  in 
a  tone  of  apology,  “please  allow  me  to  go  with 
you.  For  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  quite  as  highly 
entertained.” 


Adrienne 


47 


“By  no  means  must  you  think  of  changing 
your  plans  for  the  day,  when  you  can  go  with 
me  any  other  time,  and  as  often  as  you  like,” 
was  the  reassuring  reply. 

So  at  half  past  ten  o’clock,  Charles  not  yet 
having  put  in  an  appearance  from  camp, 
Adrienne  started  alone  to  church.  She  was  be¬ 
comingly  dressed  in  smoke  gray,  of  rich 
material,  hat  and  gloves  corresponding  in  color 
and  effect.  She  moved  lightly  along,  her  heart 
warming  under  the  influence  of  the  sunshine, 
while  in  the  gardens  she  passed  on  her  way 
brilliant  winged  butterflies  whirled  amid  the 
rich  colored  roses,  and  on  the  lovely  lawns  an 
army  of  little  birds  were  twittering  among  the 
branches  of  the  trees.  “Ah,”  she  sighed,  “what 
magic  in  nature;  how  thankful  I  am  for  the 
gift  of  enjoying  it  all.” 

A  moment  later,  as  she  entered  the  vestibule 
of  the  church,  chancing  to  meet  Miss  Conrad 
and  Mr.  Strafford  face  to  face,  who  entered  by 
the  opposite  door,  looking  up  with  surprise,  she 
encountered  the  splendid  eyes  of  the  English¬ 
man  fixed  upon  her,  who  returned  her  grace¬ 
ful  recognition  with  a  courtly  bow.  Her 
cheek  was  flushed  with  a  vivid  glow  as  she 
turned  to  follow  the  usher  down  the  aisle,  which 
gradually  faded  away  under  the  soul-inspiring 
voluntary  pealing  forth  from  the  organ.  Kneel- 


48 


Adrienne 


ing  reverently  in  the  pew  assigned  for  her  use, 
the  light  through  a  stained  window  now  touch¬ 
ing  her  hair  and  beautiful  figure,  she  sent  up, 
with  deep  humility  of  heart,  an  earnest  petition 
for  guidance  and  protection,  adding  a  special, 
supplicating  prayer  for  a  speedy  reunion  with 
her  father.  After  a  while,  as  she  rose,  her  face 
was  white,  but  beautiful  with  a  new  and  tender 
light. 

The  singing  was  all  she  expected  to  find — 
heavenly  and  uplifting.  But  the  sermon,  from 
the  unique  text  “Remember/ ’  though  it  was  ar¬ 
ranged  in  accordance  with  the  most  approved 
Episcopal  orthodoxy,  and  delivered  with  im¬ 
pressive  earnestness,  alas,  she  found  at  times 
quite  difficult  to  follow. 

The  services  over  at  last,  the  congregation 
crowded  into  the  aisles  in  the  usual  way,  press¬ 
ing  forward  to  the  doors.  Mr.  Strafford  was 
being  carried  irresistibly  along  by  the  human 
tide,  his  eyes  alight  with  expectancy  as  he 
flashed  them  into  the  pew  in  which  the  young 
girl  had  sat.  But  suddenly  the  eager,  hopeful 
light  in  them  changed  to  grave  disappointment, 
for  he  had  discovered  she  had  already  dis¬ 
appeared  among  the  receding  crowd  of  people. 
In  the  mean  time,  Adrienne  had  progressed  a 
block  or  more  on  the  road  home,  indulging  idle 
dreams  as  she  walked  along,  the  subject  of  her 


Adrienne 


49 


thoughts  being  Mr.  Strafford,  who,  though  she 
was  unconscious  of  it,  had  interested  her  from 
the  first.  Inexperience  being  her  safeguard, 
she  had  not  thought  of  him  in  the  light  of  a 
lover.  She  was  thinking  of  his  regal  bearing 
as  he  had  bowed  before  her  in  the  vestibule  of 
the  church,  of  his  singular  fascination  and  dis¬ 
tinction  of  manner,  recognizing  that  beneath  all 
his  polish  there  was  a  substratum  of  pride  and 
masterfulness  that  attracted  her  irresistibly. 
But  the  unbidden  thought  of  Miss  Conrad  sud¬ 
denly  jingled  the  harmony  of  her  musings,  set¬ 
ting  in  motion  so  unpleasant  a  vibration  of  the 
heartstrings  that,  quickening  her  pace  until  she 
had  reached  the  entrance  at  home,  flying  up 
stairs  to  her  room  and  closing  the  door,  she  pro¬ 
ceeded  to  call  herself  severely  to  order.  An 
hour  later  Adrienne  appeared  at  the  dinner  table 
in  the  presence  of  guests,  with  no  apparent 
trace  in  her  white  face  and  composed  manner  of 
the  conflict  so  recently  ruffling  her  sensitive 
nature. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


The  evening  for  Mr.  Strafford’s  entertain¬ 
ment  came  at  last.  Adrienne’s  heart,  it  must  be 
owned,  was  all  atingle  with  bright  expectation 
in  view  of  the  occasion,  the  novelty  of  which 
was  calculated  to  impress  and  captivate  the 
spirit  and  fancy  of  a  romantic  young  girl.  On 
the  stroke  of  eight  o’clock,  having  finished  her 
toilette,  she  was  turning  away  from  the  mirror, 
when  there  came  a  light  tap  on  the  door,  and 
Marie  entered. 

“Mamselle,  Madam  wishes  to  see  you  in  the 
parlor,”  she  said. 

“Is  she  alone,  Marie?” 

“No,  Mamselle,  a  gentleman,  whom  I  have 
never  seen  before,  is  with  her.” 

Wondering  who  it  could  be,  she  crossed  the 
hall  and  swept  lightly  down  the  stairs.  Open¬ 
ing  the  parlor  door,  to  her  surprise  she  found 
herself  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Strafford,  seated 
beside  Mrs.  Somers  engaged  in  conversation. 
But  as  she  entered,  he  rose,  with  a  flash  in  his 
eyes,  coming  forward  to  meet  her,  handsome 
and  distinguished  looking.  Adrienne’s  cheeks 
flushed  as  she  gave  her  hand  into  his  a  moment, 
but  bending  her  head  slightly,  passed  on  to  the 


Adrienne 


51 


window  and  stood  looking  out  into  the  street, 
thus  leaving  him  to  return  to  Mrs.  Somers  and 
finish  the  conversation  which  evidently  had 
been  interrupted  by  her  sudden  entrance. 

“So,  Mr.  Strafford/'  Mrs.  Somers  continued, 
“you  have  come  to  escort  us  in  Charles's  place 
this  evening.  It  is  kind  of  you,  I  am  sure." 

“I  shall  deem  it  a  great  privilege  if  you  ladies 
will  grant  me  so  much  pleasure,”  he  answered 
smilingly,  in  his  most  suave  manner. 

“Adrienne,”  Mrs.  Somers  said  to  the  girl, 
who  turned  at  once  facing  them,  “you  have 
heard  Mr.  Strafford’s  kind  offer  to  escort  us  in 
Charles’s  place  this  evening.  He  has  been  de¬ 
tained  in  camp  until  quite  too  late  to  accom¬ 
pany  us.” 

The  girl’s  dark  eyes  were  now  turned  upon 
Mr.  Strafford  with  a  sunny,  assenting  smile,  as 
she  inclined  her  figure  with  incomparable  grace. 
He  felt  unexplainably  influenced  by  the  mag¬ 
netism  of  her  exquisite  personality  as  he  looked 
upon  the  charming  face,  the  slender  lissome 
figure  beautifully  gowned  in  filmy  white,  worn 
over  white  silk,  her  only  ornament  a  cluster  of 
delicate  pink  tea  roses  fastened  at  her  belt.  At 
this  point  the  appearance  of  Marie  in  the  door¬ 
way,  bearing  on  her  arm  the  ladies’  wraps,  was 
the  signal  to  start,  and  the  next  moment  they 
were  speeding  swiftly  toward  the  river.  Mr. 


52 


Adrienne 


Strafford,  who  occupied  the  opposite  seat  in  the 
carriage,  was  soon  engaged  in  animated  con¬ 
versation  with  Mrs.  Somers,  in  which  at  first 
Adrienne  took  no  part,  though  something  of 
what  they  were  saying  occasionally  caught  her 
ear,  particularly  a  fragment  of  the  last  sentence. 

“The  Southerners,”  Mr.  Strafford  was  say¬ 
ing,  “give  a  striking  illustration  of  their  patri¬ 
otic  timber  by  the  go-ahead  activity  and  en¬ 
thusiasm  with  which  they  rush  into  matters.” 

“I  have  long  since  found  out,”  Mrs.  Som¬ 
ers  interrupted  energetically,  “that  to  accom¬ 
plish  anything  in  this  life  one’s  heart  and  will 
must  be  deeply  interested  and  engrossed  in  the 
work  in  hand.  Our  whole  souls,  as  you  may 
imagine,  are  absorbed  in  the  success  of  our 
cause,  and  though  our  reward  may  prove  only 
the  down-fall  of  our  cherished  hopes,  we  never¬ 
theless  shall  have  full  consciousness  of  having 
been  loyal  to  duty.  By  the  way,  Adrienne,” 
she  said  to  the  girl,  who  sat  gazing  abstractedly 
out  of  the  carriage  window,  “notwithstanding 
the  fact  that  you  have  ever  regarded  the  North 
as  your  native  place,  where  you  would  be  per¬ 
haps  at  the  present  moment  could  your  father 
have  reached  you  in  time,  I  have  taken  for 
granted  you  are  with  us  in  this  struggle.” 

She  looked  up  quickly,  and  surprising  by  the 
light  of  passing  street  lamps  an  intent  though 


Adrienne 


53 


amused  glance  from  Mr.  Strafford,  a  smile 
flickered  in  her  eyes  as  she  answered  promptly, 

“I  am  certain,  should  my  sentiments  incline 
me  ever  so  much  toward  the  opposing  cause, 
that  in  my  present  position  as  the  exception 
among  so  many  ardent  Southern  supporters,  I 
should  hesitate  to  express  myself.” 

“Then  it  is  from  prudential  considerations 
Miss  de  Courcelles  prefers  to  withhold  a  decla¬ 
ration  of  her  sentiments  on  the  question.  Is  it 
not  so?”  said  Mr.  Strafford,  laughing,  and 
shrugging  his  shoulders  lightly. 

The  girl  flushed  proudly  under  his  amused 
gaze. 

“On  the  contrary,”  she  hastened  to  say,  “I 
will  cheerfully  acknowledge,  that  however 
much  I  may  deplore  the  South  having  been 
rushed  unprepared  into  the  contest,  its  position, 
should  it  prove  a  protracted  struggle,  being  in¬ 
deed  serious,  I  nevertheless  am  satisfied  to  have 
my  lot  thrown  in  with  the  rise  or  fall  of  its 
people.” 

But  this  moment,  the  course  of  conversa¬ 
tion  being  interrupted  by  the  abrupt  halting  of 
the  carriage,  they  found  they  had  reached  the 
landing,  where  a  boat,  with  colored  lights  sus¬ 
pended  fore  and  aft,  was  in  waiting,  attended 
by  two  sailors  in  picturesque  yacht  uniform. 
While,  lying  some  distance  out  from  shore,  a 
brilliantly  illuminated  ship  was  sending  lines 


54 


Adrienne 


of  light  in  every  direction  across  the  smooth 
surface  of  the  water. 

“How  lovely!”  exclaimed  the  girl  in  genuine 
tones  of  delight.  “Do  you  suppose,  Mr.  Straf¬ 
ford,”  looking  up  into  his  face  with  a  charming 
little  smile,  “it  is  a  thing  of  magic  that  will  van¬ 
ish  at  our  approach  ?” 

“By  no  means,  Miss  de  Courcelles,”  laugh¬ 
ing  lightly,  as  he  bent  his  handsome  head  so 
that  he  might  more  plainly  see  the  radiant  up¬ 
turned  face.  “I  am  sure  it  is  better  as  you 
see  it.  Distance,  you  know,  often  lends  en¬ 
chantment  to  the  view.” 

Mr.  Strafford  proceeded  at  once  to  arrange 
for  the  comfort  of  the  ladies  on  a  cushioned 
seat  in  the  boat,  and  placing  himself  on  a  seat 
opposite  them,  gave  the  signal  to  start.  They 
were  pushing  off  from  shore,  when  the  distant 
roll  of  drums  in  the  city  reached  their  ears. 

“Alas !  that  sound,  and  all  it  suggests,” 
breathed  Adrienne  in  low  tones,  “is  in  appalling 
contrast  to  the  lovely  scene  before  us.” 

“Yes,”  said  Mr.  Strafford,  reflectively,  “it  is 
true,  these  dreaded  war  agitations  not  only 
oppose  the  doctrine  of  peace,  but  effectually 
destroy  the  beauty  and  harmony  of  society.” 

“Yet,”  answered  the  girl,  with  an  upward 
glance  into  his  face,  “does  not  all  history  prove 
that  a  crisis  is  sure  to  come  in  the  affairs  of 
every  country,  which  alone  can  be  settled  by 


Adrienne 


55 


sacrifice  of  blood?  But  the  wonder  is,  that  in 
gravest  perils  we  can  engage  in  most  trivial 
matters.  Certainly  we  are  happily  constituted.” 

“Which  proves  that  it  is  wise  not  to  worry, 
but  leave  everything  in  the  hands  of  a  Judge 
who  is  the  arbiter  of  nations,”  said  Mr.  Straf¬ 
ford,  with  conviction. 

“Allow  me  to  suggest,”  Mrs.  Somers  inter¬ 
rupted  with  a  slight  tremor  in  her  voice,  “that 
as  we  are  out  strictly  to  enjoy  ourselves  this 
evening,  we  leave  the  gruesome  topic  of  war 
out  of  the  question  for  the  present/’ 

Adrienne  suddenly  bowed  her  head,  and 
sat  quite  still,  and  a  marked  silence  fell  on  them. 
But  after  a  moment  of  suspense,  relief  came  in 
the  usual  calm,  self-composed  tones  of  Mr. 
Strafford’s  voice  addressing  Mrs.  Somers  in 
his  usual  deferential  manner.  Adrienne  sighed 
as  she  leaned  forward  to  catch  the  sweet  strains 
of  music  floating  out  to  them  from  the  dazzling 
splendor  of  the  illuminated  yacht,  upon  whose 
decks  presently  she  descried  several  officers 
grouped  together  chatting  and  smoking. 

Mrs.  Vincent,  the  gracious  dispenser  of  hos¬ 
pitality,  was  soon  welcoming  them  most  cor¬ 
dially.  The  scene  that  met  their  eyes  was  a 
dream  of  delight,  rendered  so  by  the  profusion 
of  flowers  distributed  in  every  direction  in 
every  nook  and  corner,  and  by  the  handsomely 
gowned  ladies  and  distinguished  -  looking 


56 


Adrienne 


soldiers.  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Strafford’s  com¬ 
ing  did  not  fail  to  create  considerable  stir  among 
the  bevy  of  pretty  girls.  Miss  Conrad,  now  all 
beaming  smiles,  was  conscious  of  every  glance 
from  his  eye.  Even  the  light  that  flashed  over 
his  features  if  perchance  he  met  Adrienne,  was 
faithfully  chronicled  upon  the  tablets  of  her 
memory.  Apparently,  as  the  evening  pro¬ 
gressed,  every  one  was  in  a  transport  of  mirth 
and  happiness,  yet  Adrienne,  whose  pleasure 
was  dampened  by  a  vague  feeling  of  unrest, 
scarcely  repressed  the  conviction  of  coming 
trouble. 

The  hours  were  drifting  to  a  close  when  Mr. 
Strafford  sought  the  fulfilment  of  Adrienne’s 
promise  to  him  for  the  last  dance.  He  had 
watched  the  preoccupied  look  on  the  girl’s  face, 
the  shadow  that  seemed  to  darken  the  fasci¬ 
nating,  dreamy  eyes,  and  ventured  to  say,  as  he 
came  up  to  her, 

“I  am  thinking  you  are  surfeited  with  all 
this,  and  are  wishing  yourself  safely  out  of  it.” 

She  looked  up  with  a  quick  smile,  replying, 

“Not  this  moment,  I  assure  you,  as  I  look 
upon  the  swaying  figures  to  soft  strains  of 
music.  Oh !  how  I  love  music,  that  seems  to 
have  been  created  for  my  own  unspeakable  de¬ 
light.” 

The  second’s  silence  was  broken  by  the  crash 
of  the  orchestra,  and  the  next  moment  they 


Adrienne 


57 


were  moving  with  inimitable  grace  to  the  per¬ 
fect  time  of  the  music,  the  observed  of  all  eyes. 
Mr.  Strafford,  his  heart  throbbing  with  happi¬ 
ness  akin  to  pain,  felt  that  the  entire  pleasure 
of  the  evening  was  centered  in  this,  the  last 
waltz.  But  when  the  move  was  made  at  last 
to  disperse,  Adrienne  was  sensibly  relieved, 
though  down  in  the  deep  recesses  of  her  soul 
she  knew  that  no  matter  what  the  future  might 
have  in  store  for  her,  this  evening  in  all  its  glow 
and  beauty  would  ever  remain  in  her  mind,  the 
brightest  and  most  vivid  of  her  recollections. 

Meanwhile,  Mrs.  Somers  had  wakened  to  the 
fact  that  Charles  had  not  put  in  an  appearance 
according  to  promise,  and  on  account  of  the 
defection,  Mr.  Strafford  was  gallantly  endeav¬ 
oring  to  soothe  her  manifest  worry  and  dis¬ 
tress.  Ouick  to  detect  the  note  of  constraint 
in  his  voice,  however,  Adrienne  also  began  to 
feel  excessively  uneasy  at  Charles’s  unexplained 
absence.  They  were  standing  ready  to  start, 
waiting  Mr.  Strafford’s  return,  who  had  been 
absent  a  moment,  when,  to  Adrienne’s  surprise, 
she  saw  him  coming  forward  with  Miss  Conrad 
by  his  side,  whose  face,  with  the  exception  of 
the  disdainful  curve  of  the  lips,  was  entirely 
impassive,  and  her  manner  stiff  and  unrespon¬ 
sive.  Mr.  Strafford,  however,  as  he  promptly 
took  charge  of  Mrs.  Somers,  politely  requested 
the  young  ladies  to  follow  as  he  led  the  way, 


58 


Adrienne 


with  which  they  complied,  neither  speaking  as 
they  walked  side  by  side  to  the  waiting  boat, 
which,  with  its  human  cargo,  soon  shot  out  on 
the  quiet  water  in  the  fresh  tropical  breeze,  the 
silvery  moonlight  falling  round  them  like  a 
halo.  Adrienne,  giving  no  outward  expression 
of  the  subtle  delight  that  swelled  her  heart,  sat 
with  uplifted  face,  full  of  rapture,  longing,  in 
the  magic,  the  allurement  of  the  moment,  that 
she  might  sail  on  forever.  But  all  at  once  her 
romantic  imaginings  received  a  sudden  jolt  by 
the  touch  of  the  keel  against  the  landing, 
when  their  ears  were  saluted  by  the  noisy  blast 
of  brass  bands  parading  down  the  street,  fol¬ 
lowed  by  a  long  line  of  artillery  wagons, 
mounted  with  heavy  cannon,  the  import  of 
which  Mrs.  Somers  seemed  to  comprehend  at 
once,  as  she  sat  down  abruptly  upon  the  near¬ 
est  seat,  throwing  out  her  hands  as  though 
to  ward  off  a  blow,  and  inquiring  in  a  nervous 
manner, 

“What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  Mr.  Straf¬ 
ford  ?” 

“My  dear  madam,”  he  answered  gravely, 
looking  down  upon  her  face,  “since  a  moving 
body  of  soldiers  is  an  every-day  occurrence, 
why  excite  yourself  so  unnecessarily  on  account 
of  it?” 

“Alas,”  she  said,  “I  am  convinced  of  how  ut- 


Adrienne 


59 


terly  unprepared  I  am  to  meet  this  trouble  so 
near  me,”  a  choking  sob  ending  the  sentence. 

Having  observed  Mr.  Strafford’s  divided 
duty,  Adrienne  ventured  to  assure  him  there 
was  no  necessity  he  should  accompany  them 
home.  He  turned  to  her  with  a  smile. 

“I  appreciate  your  effort,  Miss  de  Courcelles, 
at  affording  me  relief  in  this  little  dilemma.  I 
will  explain  that  Miss  Conrad’s  escort  having 
been  called  away  to  duty  during  the  early  part 
of  the  evening,  I  could  not  refuse  his  earnest 
request  to  see  her  home  safely.  And  now,  Mrs. 
Somers,”  turning  to  the  sad-faced  lady,  “I  will 
say  good-night,  hoping  your  worry  may  vanish 
at  sight  of  Captain  Somers  waiting  your  re¬ 
turn.”  Then  taking  Adrienne’s  hand  with  a 
lingering  pressure,  he  spoke  a  few  words  at 
parting,  with  so  tender  an  inflection  in  his  voice 
that  the  bright  color  came  tingling  into  her 
cheeks,  of  which  he  was  not  aware,  of  course, 
as  he  closed  the  door,  stepped  back  and  lifted 
his  hat,  allowing  the  carriage  to  pass  swiftly  out 
of  sight.  He  stood  a  moment  with  a  decided 
pang  of  regret  tugging  at  his  heart,  but  turned 
slowly  away  and  walked  the  few  paces  back  to 
Miss  Conrad,  who  evidently  waited  his  coming 
with  ill-concealed  impatience,  which,  engrossed 
in  his  own  thoughts,  he  did  not  seem  to  see, 
but  sat,  as  they  rolled  through  the  quiet  streets, 
waiting  her  pleasure  to  speak. 


60 


Adrienne 


“Mr.  Strafford,”  at  length  said  she,  “I  wish 
to  thank  you  for  the  lovely  entertainment  you 
have  so  kindly  given  for  our  pleasure.  I  have 
spent  an  evening  almost  perfectly  happy.” 

“The  pleasure  has  been  mutual,  I  assure  you, 
Miss  Conrad,  the  memory  of  which  is  indelibly 
written  upon  my  heart.  While  my  ship  has 
taken  additional  value  to  commemorate  the 
event.” 

“But  is  it  true,  Mr.  Strafford,  you  intend 
leaving  New  Orleans  so  early?” 

“I  am  at  this  hour  due  at  Norfolk,  so  my 
early  departure  from  Louisiana’s  sunny  shore 
is  a  fact  I  must  bravely  stare  in  the  face. 
Though  it  seems  a  paradox  that  one  should  be 
in  pursuit  of  pleasure  in  a  land  struggling  in 
the  throes  of  civil  war,  it  would  only  be  right  if 
one  would  stretch  forth  a  helping  hand  toward 
one’s  suffering  neighbors.” 

“Certainly,”  she  answered,  sending  a  swift 
side  glance  into  his  face,  “it  is  not  expected  of 
foreigners  to  pick  up  cudgels  in  our  defense.” 

“Pardon  me,”  now  turning  the  light  of  his 
splendid  eyes  upon  hers,  “I  cannot  see  the  im¬ 
propriety  of  meeting  the  Northerners  upon 
their  own  ground ;  for  is  it  not  known  that 
foreigners  are  constantly  swelling  their  ranks?” 

“Your  opinion,  Mr.  Strafford,  is  disinter¬ 
ested,  and  well  meant  perhaps,”  said  she  in 
crisp  tones,  “but  I  hope  indeed  we  may  be  able 


Adrienne 


61 


to  pull  through  the  difficulty  without  having  to 
call  on  foreign  aid.  In  the  mean  time,  are  you 
not  in  danger  cruising  around  our  coast?” 

“We  sail  under  colors  friendly  alike  to  North 
and  South.  The  British  flag  is  the  insignia  of 
our  protection,”  he  answered  promptly,  in  most 
courteous  tones. 

But  there  was  something  evidently  awry  with 
Miss  Conrad,  whose  usual  equipoise  threatened 
to  desert  her  at  so  critical  a  moment,  a  fact 
upon  which,  on  his  way  back  to  the  river,  Mr. 
Strafford  was  disposed  to  reflect  seriously,  hav¬ 
ing  felt  the  flavor  of  displeasure — notwith¬ 
standing  the  strenuous  effort  made  at  repres¬ 
sion — that  had  obviously  marked  her  manner 
during  the  evening.  But  upon  reaching  the 
yacht,  Mr.  Strafford  found  all  traces  of  the 
evening’s  festivity  already  removed.  The  only 
sound  breaking  the  silence  aboard  ship  was  the 
regular  step  of  the  guard  as  he  paced  his  usual 
rounds. 

Hurrying  to  his  pillow,  unpleasant  conjec¬ 
tures  were  soon  forgotten  in  sleep.  Visions  of 
his  lovelv  guests  of  the  evening  floating,  as  it 
were,  in  billows  of  tulle  and  lace,  soon  began  to 
pass  in  review  before  his  dreaming  imagination. 
But  the  scene  suddenly  changed  from  gilded 
salons  to  the  darkness  of  a  raging  storm  on  the 
ocean.  Adrienne  de  Courcelles,  her  face  rigid 
in  pallor  as  she  stood  stranded  on  a  rock  far  out 


62 


Adrienne 


at  sea,  looked  with  strained  eyes,  amid  vivid 
flashes  of  lightning  and  terrific  peals  of 
thunder,  upon  the  on-cominp*  waves  that  were 
to  sweep  her  off  irresistibly  into  a  watery  grave. 
The  terror  and  helplessness  of  the  situation 
woke  him  with  a  shuddering  groan,  but  he  had 
a  feeling  of  glad  relief  to  find  it  only  a  hideous 
dream. 

With  this  phantom  of  the  imagination  haunt¬ 
ing  him,  though  he  would  have  vigorously  dis¬ 
carded  the  idea  that  his  strong  nature  was 
tinged  in  the  smallest  degree  with  superstition, 
the  conviction  nevertheless  stole  upon  Mr. 
Strafford’s  mind  that  this  charming  young  girl 
was  threatened  by  a  swiftly  approaching 
calamity.  Accordingly,  a  day  or  so  later,  he 
was  found  standing  in  front  of  the  entrance  of 
Mrs.  Somers’s  residence,  sending  a  peal  from 
the  bell  that  roused  sluggish  Hans  out  of  his 
afternoon  doze,  and  sent  him  shambling  along 
to  answer  the  call.  But  the  old  darky’s  eyes 
opened  wide  with  surprise  upon  perceiving  the 
caller.  Presently  collecting  his  wits  he 
answered  coherently  the  solicitous  inquiries 
after  the  ladies. 

“I  am  sorry,  suh,”  said  Hans,  bowing  elab¬ 
orately,  “but  my  mistis  is  absent  at  present, 
with  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Richards.  Miss 
Adren,  suh,  is  lef’  town,  on  a  visit  to  my  mis- 


Adrienne 


63 


tis’s  other  daughter  who  lives  a  long  way  up 
de  river  on  her  plantation,  suh.” 

Mr.  Strafford  turned  away  at  once,  disap¬ 
pointed  at  this  assurance  from  Hans,  and  strode 
out  to  his  carriage,  his  heart  filled  with  agita¬ 
tion  and  vexation  as  he  sorely  puzzled  his  brain 
with  fruitless  speculation  over  the  sudden  turn 
in  affairs. 


CHAPTER  IX 


Mrs.  Somers  and  Adrienne  found,  upon 
reaching  home,  Hans  waiting  to  receive  them, 
holding  in  his  hand  a  sealed  envelope,  which,  as 
Mrs.  Somers  passed  him  by,  he  gave  into  her 
keeping.  With  a  sudden  intuition,  and  unable 
to  resist  the  thought,  smothering  a  tumult  of 
feeling,  Adrienne  slipped  away  to  her  room, 
that  she  might  avoid  witnessing  her  guardian’s 
overwhelming*  grief  and  distress,  and  was 
standing  beside  the  window,  lost  in  sad  medita¬ 
tion,  when  her  train  of  thought  was  interrupted 
by  Marie’s  entrance,  who  approached  and 
silently  handed  her  the  letter,  which  indeed 
proved  a  hurried  scrawl  from  Charles  an¬ 
nouncing  his  sudden  departure  with  his  com¬ 
mand  for  the  front  in  Virginia,  which  had 
given  him  no  time  to  seek  and  bid  them  good- 
by  in  person.  But  his  written  good-by,  though 
infinitely  sad,  breathed  in  every  line  a  devotion 
to  the  Confederate  cause,  and  a  fervid  belief  in 
its  final  victory.  Adrienne  felt  relieved  that 
he  had  been  spared  the  heart-breaking  farewell 
to  his  mother. 

“Alas!  poor  Charles,”  she  sighed,  his  attach¬ 
ment  for  Miss  Conrad,  which  he  had  tried  faith- 


Adrienne 


65 


fully  to  conceal  from  herself,  now  coming  up 
vividly  before  her  recollection.  Deeply  touched 
she  had  been  by  the  disaster  which  had  befallen 
his  heart’s  first  true  affections,  while  the  noble 
manner  in  which  he  had  fought  out  single- 
handed  the  great  disappointment  of  his  life,  suc¬ 
ceeding  at  last  in  stemming  the  tide  of  misery 
that  threatened  to  overwhelm  and  crush  out  his 
manliness,  appealed  to  her  tender  womanly  sym¬ 
pathy  and  warmest  admiration. 

The  following  day  proved  a  weary  heart  les¬ 
son  in  Adrienne’s  experience,  as  in  the  direc¬ 
tion  of  Mrs.  Somers’s  rooms  she  frequently 
heard  most  pitiful  moans,  coming  from  the 
depths  of  a  broken  heart.  She  began  to  reflect 
seriously  over  the  blow  that  had  fallen  so  piti¬ 
lessly  on  her  guardian’s  devoted  head.  While 
the  dismal  surroundings  of  the  house  so  de¬ 
pressed  her  spirits,  she  found  it  pleasant  to  wel¬ 
come  even  Mrs.  Richards, — of  whose  brusque 
manner  she  was  conscious  of  having  stood  in 
awe, — who  came  early,  and  with  designs,  judg¬ 
ing  by  the  length  of  time  she  remained  closeted 
in  her  mother’s  rooms. 

But  as  Adrienne  sat  in  the  lower  hall,  trying 
to  fasten  her  thoughts  upon  an  interesting  book, 
Mrs.  Richards  suddenly  appeared  before  her. 
Coming  forward  and  taking  a  seat  opposite  the 
girl,  she  proceeded,  without  preamble,  to  say,  in 
a  business-like  way. 


66 


Adrienne 


“I  have  been  the  last  hour  trying  to  convince 
mother  of  the  folly  of  running  this  establish¬ 
ment  in  her  present  weak  condition  of  health. 
I  see  the  necessity  of  removing  her  at  once  to 
my  house,  feeling  that  I,  alone,  can  give  her  the 
required  nursing  and  attention.  But  on  your 
account  she  hesitated  decidedly,  urging  serious 
objections.  But  as  I  had  in  my  power  a  pro¬ 
posal  that  would  set  her  fears  at  rest,  she  finally 
p-ave  her  consent,  provided  it  should  meet  with 
your  full  and  free  approval.  You  must  re¬ 
member,  Adrienne,  once,  when  you  were  a 
small  child,  to  have  met  my  sister  Helen, — Mrs. 
Willesly, — from  whom  I  am  in  receipt  of  a  letter 
this  morning,  making  particular  inquiries  about 
you,  insisting,  as  she  is  alone  on  her  plantation, 
a  considerable  distance  from  neighbors  (her 
husband  being  absent  with  his  command  in  Vir¬ 
ginia),  that  you  must  pay  her  a  visit,  and  come 
prepared  to  make  a  long  stay.  She  is  lonely, 
and  pleads  for  your  company.  I  have  been 
thinking,  Adrienne,  that  until  mother  is  better, 
and  it  shall  be  pleasant  for  you  here  again,  per¬ 
haps  a  visit  to  Helen  would  prove  a  most  de¬ 
lightful  change  for  you.  However,  should  you 
prefer  remaining  in  the  city,  it  is  unnecessary 
to  say  other  pleasant  arrangements  can  be  made 
for  your  pleasure  and  comfort.” 

“I  understand,  Mrs.  Richards,  the  peculiar 
circumstances  which  have  brought  about  this 


Adrienne 


67 


proposal  from  you,  therefore  I  shall  not  hesi¬ 
tate  to  accept  the  alternative  kindly  suggested 
by  you.” 

“I  am  positive,  Adrienne,  that  in  the  end  you 
will  thank  me.”  And  as  she  now  rose  to  go, 
looking  down  into  the  girl’s  sad  face,  she  asked, 
“Shall  I  send  a  message  to  Helen  at  once  to 
expect  you,  and  let  mother  know  of  your  will¬ 
ing  consent  to  my  plan?” 

“You  can  say  that  I  prefer  to  go,  and  can 
let  Mrs.  Willesly  know  at  once,”  was  the  simple 
but  firm  reply. 

Mrs.  Richards  walked  briskly  down  the  hall 
and  disappeared  through  the  end  door,  the  girl’s 
eyes  following  her  with  a  look  of  evident  relief. 
But  now  springing  to  her  feet,  she  ran  up  to  her 
room,  and  crossing  over  to  a  front  window 
stood  watching  the  hurrying  passers  in  the 
street,  her  thoughts  busy  with  the  uprising 
thought,  “Was  ever  a  girl  more  unhappily 
placed — more  completely  wrapped  in  loneli¬ 
ness?”  And  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  her  help¬ 
lessness,  involuntarily  the  thought  of  her 
father’s  prolonged  absence  began  to  torture  her. 
She  was  no  weakling  to  crave  the  sympathy  of 
others,  but  felt  scarcely  able  to  strive  against  the 
present  emergency  in  her  life. 

The  next  morning  Adrienne  was  not  sur¬ 
prised  at  receiving  a  summons  from  her  guard¬ 
ian,  which  she  promptly  responded  to.  But 


68 


Adrienne 


when  she  had  reached  the  bedside,  and  her  eyes 
had  fallen  upon  the  sudden  and  marked  change 
in  the  invalid’s  face,  wrought  by  the  ravages  of 
sorrow,  she  sank,  overwhelmed,  upon  the  near¬ 
est  seat,  and  for  a  moment  was  unable  to  frame 
a  sentence  on  her  lips. 

“Alas !  Adrienne,”  came  in  a  weak,  quaver¬ 
ing  voice,  “I  have  had  my  death-blow ;  hut  per¬ 
haps  I  have  lived  long  enough.  There  is  no  way 
but  to  feel  resigned  to  what  is  beyond  one’s 
power  to  control.  But  it  was  not  to  discuss 
this,  however,  that  I  sent  for  you.  While  I  am 
yet  strong  enough  I  want  to  say  to  you  how 
deeply  I  deplore  the  way  things  have  turned  out. 
There  is  some  consolation,  Adrienne,  in  know¬ 
ing  you  will  be  pleasantly  situated  with  Helen, 
who  is  warm-hearted  and  gay-spirited,  and  will 
thoroughly  appreciate  you  in  every  sense  of  the 
word.” 

“Dear  Mrs.  Somers,  do  not  let  a  thought  of 
me  worry  and  distress  your  mind.  I  shall  be 
all  right,  and  should  the  emergency  arise,  I  feel 
competent  to  take  care  of  myself.  But,  as  the 
hour  is  come  when  we  must  be  separated  in¬ 
definitely,  may  I  ask  if  it  will  tax  your  strength 
too  much  to  give  me  a  very  brief  statement  of 
the  cause  of  my  mother’s  estrangement  from 
her  father,  so  much  so,  that  her  child  should  be 
effectually  shut  out  from  his  sympathy  and  pro¬ 
tection?” 


Adrienne 


69 


Mrs.  Somers  regarded  the  girl's  face  with  a 
kind  smile,  and  began,  with  a  certain  weakness 
in  her  voice,  to  say, 

“To  make  a  long  story  short,  Adrienne,  the 
entire  trouble  grew  out  of  the  stern  forbidding 
pride  of  Mr.  Stanley,  your  grandfather,  who  is 
still  living,  a  type  of  the  old  Virginian  aristoc¬ 
racy.  His  daughter  Grace,  your  mother,  being 
very  beautiful,  was  much  flattered  and  admired 
in  the  stately  circle  in  which  she  moved.  While 
abroad  one  season  she,  with  her  party,  fell  in 
company  with  some  distinguished  tourists,  of 
whom  Mr.de  Courcelles  was  one  of  the  number. 
Naturally,  as  they  were  thrown  together  during 
the  entire  season,  an  attachment  between  Miss 
Stanley  and  Mr.  de  Courcelles  was  the  result  of 
the  intimacy.  Mr.  de  Courcelles,  following 
Miss  Stanley  home,  presented  himself  before 
her  father  as  a  suitor  for  his  daughter’s  hand. 
But  his  proposal  was  met  with  so  prompt  and 
decided  a  refusal  that,  feeling  bitterly  repulsed 
and  chagrined,  he  retired  precipitately  from  the 
field ;  he  taking  himself,  with  his  bruised  and 
insulted  feelings,  to  the  maelstrom  of  surging, 
busy  New  York.  But,  as  nothing  can  turn  the 
tide  of  true  love, — it  was  fate, — Grace,  not 
willing  to  renounce  her  foreign  lover,  managed, 
by  some  inexplicable  method,  to  communicate 
with  him,  shortly  after  openly  defying  her 
father’s  wishes  and  authority  by  becoming  Mr. 


70 


Adrienne 


de  Courcelles’s  wife,  and  accordingly  was  speed¬ 
ily  disinherited,  a  deaf  ear  being  turned  to 
all  entreaties  for  reconciliation.  In  consequence 
of  your  mother’s  death,  which  occurred  three 
years  following  her  marriage,  your  father’s 
health  was  seriously  shaken.  My  sister,  Mrs. 
Elliott,  who  was  a  close  friend  of  your  mother, 
was  present  at  her  death,  when  she  took  charge 
of  you.  On  a  visit  to  my  sister,  three  summers 
later,  in  New  York,  I  found  you,  Adrienne,  a 
lovely  little  girl,  and  seeing  the  many  demands 
on  my  sister’s  time  sociallv  and  otherwise,  I 
besought  your  father  to  turn  you  over  to  me. 
He  consented  finally, — knowing  he  must  soon 
start  out  upon  a  prolonged  tour  through  the  far 
East  for  the  restoration  of  his  health, — with  the 
assurance  of  his  gratitude,  and  satisfaction  at 
having  you  placed  in  such  kind,  responsible 
hands.  Besides,  he  was  pleased  at  the  idea  of 
having  you  educated  in  your  mother’s  native 
land.  It  was  his  declared  purpose  to  have  been 
here  at  the  present  time,  which  of  course  has 
been  prevented  by  the  unfortunate  trouble  be¬ 
tween  the  North  and  South.  Doubtless  he  is 
waiting  in  New  York  for  an  opportunity  of 
seeking  his  ‘little  girl,’  for  as  such  he  seems 
always  to  speak  of  you.  A  happy  future  waits 
you  in  his  congenial  companionship,  Adrienne, 
as  he  is  yet  quite  young  to  have  a  grown 
daughter.  You  must  have  known,  by  the 


Adrienne 


71 


elaborate  provision  made  always  for  your  pleas¬ 
ure  and  comfort,  that  your  father  is  a  very  rich 
man.  I  hope  indeed  he  may  be  satisfied  with 
your  training  and  education.” 

“/  am  satisfied,  dear  Mrs.  Somers.  You 
have  been  everything  to  me  from  my  childhood. 
I  can  never  repay  the  debt  of  gratitude  I  owe 
you.” 

“I  am  not  disposed  to  take  much  of  the  credit 
to  myself,  my  child.  For,  in  one  so  young,  I 
have  rarely  met  with  so  much  decision  of 
character.” 

A  sudden  pallor  beginning  to  settle  over  Mrs. 
Somers’s  face,  and  her  voice  faltering  from 
weakness,  Adrienne,  a  little  startled,  rose  to 
her  feet  and  withdrew  quietly  from  the  room. 
On  her  way  back  to  her  own  apartments  she 
dwelt  upon  the  meeting  with  her  father  yet  in 
store  for  her,  bringing  a  light  like  sunshine  into 
her  face,  and  a  radiant  gleam  of  joy  into  her 
lovely  eyes.  “How  strange,”  she  mused,  “the 
recital  of  this  sad  little  history  should  infuse 
new  life  into  mv  veins.  But,  oh,  my  grand¬ 
father  !  it  is  the  implacable  stubbornness  of  your 
will  that  has  maried  your  otherwise  grand 
character.  I  indeed  shudder  when  I  remember 
my  mother  in  her  last  hours  should  have  had 
to  feel  the  lash  of  your  unyieldine  treatment.” 

With  Marie’s  assistance,  Adrienne’s  trunks 
were  soon  in  readiness  for  the  transfer.  As  she 


72 


Adrienne 


waited  the  moment  in  which  she  was  to  say 
good-by,  and  take  her  departure,  there  was 
ample  time  to  reflect  that  she  was  leaving  New 
Orleans  perhaps  never  to  return.  Driven  by 
circumstances  over  which  she  had  no  control  to 
make  a  change  in  her  life,  she  devoutly  prayed 
the  change  might  prove  pleasant  at  least — 
among  people  of  culture  and  refinement.  But 
suddenly  a  pained  look  came  into  her  face  as 
she  thought  of  her  recent  parting  with  Mr. 
Strafford,  thinking  to  meet  him  so  soon  again, 
sending  a  quiver  of  despair  into  her  already 
aching  heart ;  while  the  thought  of  going  so  far 
away  caused  her  heart  to  sink  as  lead  within 
her.  “Oh !”  she  said,  “could  I  but  lift  the  veil 
from  the  future,  which  now  seems  all  chaos  to 
my  confused  brain,  perhaps  the  sweet  hope  that 
it  might  contain  some  bright  hours  to  cheer  my 
life  would  not  seem  a  cruel  mockery.” 

Marie  wept  from  time  to  time  while  getting 
Adrienne’s  effects  in  readiness,  and  when  the 
boxes  were  packed  and  strapped,  though  the 
girl  herself  was  so  wretched,  she  tried  to  soothe 
and  cheer  the  disconsolate  maid  with  sanguine 
expressions  of  the  hope  they  would  all  be 
gathered  again  under  the  same  roof. 

“For,  Marie,”  she  added,  “I  am  not  dis¬ 
posed  to  harbor  the  thought  of  my  guardian 
not  being  able  to  rally  and  grow  strong  again.” 


Adrienne 


73 


“Alas !  Mamselle,”  with  a  sigh,  and  dolorous 
shake  of  the  head,  accompanied  with  the  in¬ 
evitable  French  shrug,  “my  heart  indeed  very 
much  forebode  me,  that  there  no  hope  is  for 
poor  Madame.” 


CHAPTER  X 


Early  in  the  morning,  after  a  long  journey 
through  the  night,  Adrienne  found  herself 
standing  alone  on  the  platform  of  a  country 
depot,  with  no  other  habitation  in  sight.  Noth¬ 
ing  could  surpass  the  loneliness  of  the  scene, 
accordingly  her  spirits  sank  low,  wondering 
within  herself  if  this  dismal  spot  was  but  the 
beginning  of  what  her  life  must  be  perhaps  for 
months  to  come.  Groaning  inwardly,  her 
thoughts  flew  back  to  the  sunny,  pleasure-lov¬ 
ing  flower-scented  city  she  had  just  left  behind. 
And  impelled  by  a  tender,  yearning,  homesick 
feeling,  she  turned  in  time  to  catch  through  the 
blur  of  tears  the  last  glimpse  of  the  fast  reced¬ 
ing  train  as  it  swept  round  a  curve  and  vanished 
from  sight.  She  was  making  every  effort  to 
overcome  her  agitation,  when  a  boy,  carelessly 
whistling,  came  along,  who,  as  he  shot  a  look 
into  the  girl’s  tear-stained  eyes,  stopped 
abruptly,  offering,  from  sheer  sympathy,  to 
conduct  her  to  a  hotel.  Accepting  with  a  bow 
of  glad  assent,  she  followed  as  he  piloted  her 
through  a  densely  wooded  region,  a  few  steps 
beyond  which  she  was  let  into  an  unpretending 
country  hotel.  She  was  very  much  surprised  as 


Adrienne 


75 


she  glanced  around,  to  find  so  much  neatness 
and  order  in  the  appointments  of  the  place.  The 
proprietor  came  hurrying  forward,  and  when 
Adrienne  had  made  known  her  wants,  with  the 
assurance  of  doing  all  in  his  power  for  her  ac¬ 
commodation,  taking  his  hat  from  a  nail  in  the 
wall,  he  hurried  out  in  search  of  the  carriage 
Adrienne  had  been  informed  would  be  waiting 
her  arrival  without  fail.  She  had  not  long  to 
wait,  for  after  a  light  breakfast,  as  she  stood  at 
the  front  door  watching  eagerly  for  the  com¬ 
ing  carriage,  to  her  delight  she  descried  it  at  a 
distance  approaching  the  house,  and  as  it  drew 
near  she  observed  the  coachman,  though  not  in 
livery,  was  neatly  dressed  in  black.  He  re¬ 
turned  her  smiling  greeting  with  the  usual  dig¬ 
nified  salutation  denoting  the  respect  of  the  old 
slave  type. 

“Young  Mistis,  Uncle  Abram  at  yo’  sarvice 
— de  Willesly  keerage  driver  fur  mos’  two  gin- 
erations.  If  yo’  is  ready  to  start,  young  Mistis, 
we’ll  be  rackin’  along.  De  cart  ain’t  fur  behind 
what’ll  fetch  yo’  trunks.” 

The  girl  returned  Uncle  Abram’s  elaborate 
introduction  of  himself  with  a  bright  bend  of 
her  head  and  a  flashing  little  smile,  proceeding 
at  once  to  place  herself  and  effects  upon  the  back 
seat  of  the  carriage.  And  presently  finding  the 
low-roofed  hotel  shut  out  from  view  by  inter¬ 
vening  hills,  she  felt  no  regret  in  her  heart, 


76 


Adrienne 


though  she  dreaded  the  long  drive  of  thirty 
miles  Uncle  Abram  had  assured  her  was  the 
extent  of  their  day’s  journey.  It  being  a  soft, 
glowing  day,  the  breeze  played  continually 
through  the  carriage  windows,  bringing  in  with 
it  the  scent  of  the  wild  hedge-rose,  now  a  pro¬ 
fusion  of  flowers  sparkling  with  raindrops  from 
the  night  shower,  so  delighting  her  that  she  im¬ 
mediately  grew  wonderfully  interested  in  the 
country  through  which  she  was  passing,  and 
could  not  resist  leaning  her  head  far  out  of  the 
window  in  the  abandonment  of  enjoyment, 
breathing  with  rapture  the  newness  of  it  all. 
She  soon  made  the  glad  discovery,  as  she  noted 
an  added  richness  in  the  foliage  of  the  trees, 
that  they  were  surely  nearing  the  densely 
wooded  lands  bordering  the  river. 

The  sun  was  hanging  low  in  the  horizon  when 
the  carriage  paused  at  last  at  the  top  of  a  long 
hill.  Bending  forward  and  pointing  with  his 
whip  to  the  right,  Uncle  Abram  called, 

“Young  Mistis,  dere  is  de  house.  Will  vou 
git  out  an’  go  froo  de  little  i’on  gate,  or  shall  I 
drive  roun’  by  de  big  gate  ?” 

“Take  the  route  through  the  big  gate,  by 
all  means,  Uncle  Abram,”  the  girl  smilingly 
called  out  from  the  carriage  window.  Then 
turning  her  eyes  upon  the  commodious  resi¬ 
dence,  which  crowned  a  rolling  elevation,  with 
its  wide  verandas,  a  lovely  lawn  carpeted  with 


Adrienne 


77 


velvety  green  grass,  sloping  gradually  on  all 
sides,  evidencing  the  best  care  of  well-trained 
servants,  she  fell  to  speculating  on  the  coming 
meeting  with  Mrs.  Willesly.  But  there  was  no 
want  of  welcome  in  her  reception  by  her 
hostess,  who  met  her  with  much  cordiality.  As 
she  was  conducted  by  Mrs.  Willesly  herself  up 
the  broad  staircase,  on  into  a  richly  furnished 
bed-room,  with  books,  flowers,  and  pictures 
scattered  round,  indeed  everything  to  make  a 
young  girl  happy,  she  had  not  failed  to  note  the 
refinement  and  elegance  that  characterized  on 
all  sides  this  lovely  home. 

“I  am  sure,  Adrienne, ”  Mrs.  Willesly  con¬ 
tinued,  as  she  assisted  the  girl  to  remove  her  hat 
and  gloves,  “that  however  slow  the  beginning 
may  seem  to  you,  the  country  having  so  few 
social  advantages,  and  we  do  not  see  life  from 
a  city  standpoint,  we  nevertheless  can  be  happy 
in  our  own  way,  and  you  may  grow  into  a 
home  feeling*  sooner  than  you  imagine.  You 
are  goodness  itself,  my  child,  in  coming  to  me 
so  promptly  to  cheer  my  lonely  hours.  How¬ 
ever,  perhaps  I  have  done  wrong  to  insist,  under 
the  circumstances,  upon  having  you.  Poor 
mother,  when  I  think  of  her  sufferings,  I  am 
induced  to  believe  this  war  could  have  been 
avoided  had  Jeff  Davis  been  disposed  to  regard 
the  matter  from  a  reasonable  point  of  view.” 


78 


Adrienne 


“That,  I  am  sure,  is  very  doubtful/’  Adrienne 
answered,  with  a  subtle  note  of  protest  in  her 
voice.  “Let  us  suppose  Mr.  Davis  is  sincere  at 
least  in  the  part  he  has  taken  in  the  movement.” 

“Very  well,  my  clear,”  she  laughed,  “at  any 
rate,  in  so  early  a  stage  of  our  acquaintance,  be 
it  far  from  me  to  wish  to  draw  you  into  a  dis¬ 
cussion  on  the  subject.  I  do  not  know  your 
father,  Adrienne,  but  I  take  a  very  tender  inter¬ 
est  in  you,  and  intend  keeping  you  with  me  until 
he  shall  come  in  person  to  spirit  you  away  to 
his  distant  home.  But  forgive  me,  child,  for  I 
know  you  must  be  suffering  from  pangs  of 
hunger  after  your  long  and  tiresome  drive.  So 
I  am  now  going,  intent  upon  household  duties. 
Hurry  down,  a  warm  supper  will  set  you  up.” 

“I  must  insist,  Mrs.  Willesly,  that  you  treat 
me  precisely  as  one  of  the  family,  and  then  I 
shall  certainly  feel  at  home.”  And  closing  the 
door  upon  Mrs.  Willesly’s  retreating  figure, 
the  girl  turned  to  her  own  melancholy,  home¬ 
sick  thoughts.  But  after  a  plunge  into  a  cool 
bath  she  felt  deliciously  refreshed,  and  was 
not  long  making  herself  ready  for  the  evening 
repast  that  was  to  complete  the  day’s  unusual 
experience. 

Glad  of  a  distraction  from  worries  endanger- 
ing  her  peace  of  mind,  Mrs.  Willesly  rattled  on, 
at  the  supper  table,  in  a  lively  strain,  hoping  to 
draw  the  girl’s  thoughts  away  from  herself, 


Adrienne 


79 


who,  in  the  mean  time,  had  been  taking-  an  in¬ 
ventory  of  the  good  points  of  her  charming 
hostess,  the  entire  impression  proving  most 
pleasing  and  satisfactory. 

Mrs.  Willesly’s  two  children,  Annie  and 
Charles,  met  her  with  quiet  refinement  in  their 
manner,  addressing  her  as  “Cousin  Adrienne.” 
She  discovered  at  once  they  were  cultured  and 
interesting  beyond  their  years.  As  the  days 
passed  by,  and  the  acquaintance  progressed, 
Adrienne  often  found  herself  invited  to  a  stroll 
in  the  woods  in  search  of  ferns  and  wild  flowers, 
varying  the  hour  by  a  discussion  of  their  bo¬ 
tanical  relations.  Thus,  by  close  association,  a 
warm  attachment  ripened  between  the  children 
and  the  lovely  young  guest. 

Mrs.  Willesly,  declaring  she  could  not  think 
of  jeopardizing  her  tender  feet  by  the  under¬ 
taking  of  such  long  jaunts,  said  to  Adrienne 
one  morning, 

“I  should  like  to  have  you  drive  with  me, 
Adrienne,  taking  advantage  of  the  fine  weather. 
You  must  not  let  your  self-imposed  duties  in¬ 
terfere  with  other  pleasures.  It  was  kind  of  you 
to  undertake  the  children,  which  is  a  mere  pas¬ 
time  for  you ;  but  there  is  no  need  of  making 
a  governess  of  yourself.” 

“Oh,”  laughed  Adrienne,  “I  enjoy  being  with 
the  children  as  friend  and  companion.” 


80 


Adrienne 


“Well,”  was  the  laughing  reply,  “they  must 
have  a  holiday  every  day,  while  I  hope  you  will 
not  consider  it  an  irksome  task  to  give  me  some 
of  your  time.” 

“You  know  I  shall  be  only  too  delighted  to 
go  with  you  whenever  you  like  to  have  me,” 
was  the  candid  answer. 

So,  in  the  beauty  of  that  very  afternoon,  as 
they  were  bowling  over  lovely  country  roads, 
beneath  the  shade  of  magnificent  trees,  Mrs. 
Willesly,  as  she  looked  down  into  the  girl’s  face 
and  caught  the  sparkle  of  delighted  enjoyment 
in  the  dark  eyes,  naturally  concluded  she  was 
growing  content  and  happy.  But  could  she  have 
known  the  inner  workings  of  Adrienne’s 
thoughts,  her  contemplations  perhaps  would  not 
have  been  so  tranquil.  For,  alas,  though  rarely 
alluding  to  her  father,  the  indefinite  separation 
from  him  had  begun  to  color  her  life  with  a 
cloud  of  unutterable  despondency. 

In  consequence  of  the  rigorous  winter  that 
now  broke  over  them,  shutting  them  out  from 
the  world,  naturally  this  little  family  grew  de¬ 
pendent  upon  one  another  for  society,  and  ac¬ 
cordingly  their  relations  became  very  pleasant 
and  sympathetic.  Nevertheless,  Adrienne, 
from  the  dismalness  of  the  long  winter  even¬ 
ings,  often  felt  driven  to  the  friendly  comfort 
of  the  library,  where,  invariably  greeted  by  a 


Adrienne 


81 


cheerful  fire,  the  cosy  surroundings  contrasting 
with  the  icy  appearance  of  things  outside,  she 
was  soothed  into  delightful  repose  as  she  sought 
companionship  in  the  pages  of  an  interesting 
story,  perfectly  congenial  with  the  hour  and 
her  own  inclinations. 

At  this  juncture  only  occasional  mutter ings 
of  war  were  heard,  so  they  were  lulled  to  quiet 
and  rest.  The  days  now  flitted  by,  broken  in 
upon  alone  by  the  negro  plantation  song  in  all 
its  quaintness  and  peculiar  cadence,  as  it  came 
from  the  fields  from  early  morn  to  the  going- 
down  of  the  sun.  To  Adrienne  one  of  the  most 
attractive  features  of  country  life  was  sitting  at 
the  twilight  hour  and  meditating  as  she  looked 
into  the  darkening  shadows  and  listened  to  the 
many  insects  peopling  the  night.  Even  when 
alone  in  her  own  room,  during  the  stillness  of 
the  midnight  hour,  she  would  listen  to  the 
breeze  sighing  through  the  leaves  of  the  trees 
close  by,  and  through  a  window  beside  her  bed 
would  gaze  out  into  the  far-off  starry  heavens, 
her  whole  being  vibrating  in  unison  with  the 
expansiveness  and  grandeur  of  the  universe; 
but  she  felt  how  impenetrable  to  finite  minds 
was  the  mystery  that  lay  beyond  its  limitations. 

In  the  natural  order  of  things  the  narrow 
routine  of  this  well-regulated  family  must  soon 
give  way  to  the  troubles  and  perils  lying  in  wait 


82 


Adrienne 


in  their  pathway ;  for  suddenlv  there  was  a 
startling  report  that  the  city  of  New  Orleans 
was  not  sufficiently  guarded  against  attack. 
The  increasing  alarm  and  cry  for  reinforce¬ 
ments,  though  promptly  scouted  by  the  officer 
in  command,  alas  proved  not  an  idle  sensation, 
and  was  subsequently  confirmed  by  General 
Butler’s  famous  entrance  into  the  city,  thus 
capturing  the  stronghold  of  the  Mississippi 
River. 

The  news  of  the  capitulation  of  New  Orleans 
reached  Mrs.  Willesly  simultaneously  with  that 
of  the  death  of  her  mother  and  Charles,  Mrs. 
Somers’s  death  having  been  caused  by  the  sud¬ 
den  tidings  that  Charles  had  fallen  in  battle. 

Mrs.  Willesly  was  overwhelmed.  Throwing 
up  her  hands  she  cried  out,  “Adrienne,  I  am 
indeed  bereft!” 

The  girl  was  profoundly  shocked,  but  could 
not  find  words  to  express  the  tender  sympathy 
she  felt  in  her  heart  for  her  sorrow-stricken 
friend.  Knowing  that  time  alone  would  serve 
to  soften  the  keen  edge  of  her  crushing  grief 
and  bring  back  an  interest  in  life,  she  was  im¬ 
pressed  with  the  thought  that  no  consolation 
she  could  offer  would  soothe  or  heal  the  smitten 
heart. 

Adrienne,  left  much  of  the  time  to  herself, 
began  to  dwell  upon  the  enigma  of  life,  wonder- 


Adrienne 


83 


ing  why  it  should  be  so  that  her  heart  must  be 
filled  with  a  hungry  ache,  ever  baffling  a  reach¬ 
ing  out  after  a  happiness  that  seemed  fated  to 
elude  her  grasp. 


CHAPTER  XI 


The  period  of  mourning  passed  during  un¬ 
eventful  days.  Winter  again  had  been  removed 
for  the  advance  of  the  beauty  and  freshness  of 
spring,  and  the  air  was  sweet  with  the  fragrance 
of  flowers. 

All  at  once  the  neighborhood  was  shaken  out 
of  its  semi-lethargy  by  the  report  that  a  certain 
army  division  was  on  its  way  to  the  river,  and 
would  be  encamped  three  miles  below  Mrs. 
Willesly’s  residence.  The  old  fort  was  to  be 
put  in  shape  for  battle,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
all  things  being  made  ready,  were  taking  on 
quite  a  serious  outlook,  while  the  very  air  was 
permeated  with  ominous  warnings. 

Delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  relief  from  the 
uninterrupted  solitude  of  her  every-day  life,  in 
which  for  so  long  past  there  had  been  no  room 
for  any  emotion  in  her  heart  save  sorrow — 
noiseless  footsteps,  muffled  voices,  as  it  were, 
having  been  the  order  of  the  house — Mrs. 
Willesly  entered  into  a  pleasurable  expectation. 
Adrienne  cheerfully  welcomed  the  change,  the 
quiet  of  the  house  having  become  so  exceedingly 
distasteful  to  her,  she  had  begun  to  find  the 


Adrienne 


85 


burden  of  time  quite  too  depressing  to  her 
youthful  spirits. 

Shortly  after,  Mrs.  Willesly  and  Adrienne 
were  sitting  talking  over  a  late  breakfast,  when 
Ferriby,  the  little  black  house-maid,  suddenly 
appeared  before  them,  grinning  from  ear  to  ear. 

“Miss  Helen, ”  she  said,  much  excited,  “a 
sojer  stopped  me  in  de  hall  jes’  now,  an’  say  he 
would  like  to  see  you  one  minit.” 

At  once  rising  from  her  chair,  with  the  light 
of  interest  and  curiosity  in  her  face,  Mrs.  Wil¬ 
lesly  quitted  the  room.  Being  left  alone, 
Adrienne  rose  also,  but  passed  out  on  the  ver¬ 
anda,  and  stood  looking  straight  before  her  over 
level  spreading  fields  to  the  luxuriant  woodland 
beyond  now  all  bathed  in  the  sparkling  morning- 
sunshine,  reflecting  sadly  over  the  fact  that 
soon  all  this  beauty  and  harmony  in  nature  must 
feel  the  presence  of  an  invading  foe.  “Oh, 
why,”  she  thought,  “since  we  are  contented 
with  our  ploughing,  sowing,  and  reaping,  must 
our  quiet  fields  be  troubled  by  the  rumble  and 
devastation  of  war?”  A  sigh  passed  her  lips 
as  she  bent  forward,  held  by  the  charm  of  every¬ 
thing  so  near.  But  this  moment  Mrs.  Willesly 
reappeared.  Her  eyes  were  lighted  up  with  a 
look  of  eager  pleasure  as  she  said  with  a  laugh, 
and  a  playful  flutter  in  her  manner, 

“Well,  Adrienne,  I  have  come  to  report  that 
the  ‘sojer’  waiting  to  see  me  was  no  other  than 


86 


Adrienne 


the  general  in  command  of  this  division,  a  few 
hours  in  advance  of  his  army,  to  make  business 
arrangements.  And  do  you  know  he  asked  of 
me  the  privilege  of  making  my  residence  his 
headquarters.  Besides  he  is  anxious  to  board 
with  me.  He  has  a  wife,  one  small  child,  and 
there  is  a  maid  to  accommodate.  Of  course  I 
deliberated  on  the  matter,  but  finally  agreed, 
knowing  this  addition  to  our  family  circle 
would  greatly  enliven  the  times  and  be  an  agree¬ 
able  change  from  our  usual  humdrum  existence. 
He  can  have  the  use  of  the  suite  of  rooms 
adjoining  the  parlors.  For,  Adrienne,  though 
you  have  been  as  sweet  as  can  be  about  it,  I 
know  your  life  all  these  months  has  been  as 
suppressed  as  possible.” 

“But,  Mrs.  Willesly,  I  would  not  have  your 
decision  influenced  by  a  thought  of  me” 
pleaded  Adrienne.  “You  must  remember,  to 
entertain  an  officer  of  this  rank  will  mean  an 
entire  revolution  in  your  usual  domestic 
routine.” 

“Oh,  well,”  she  answered,  a  little  impatiently, 
“the  die  is  cast,  and  I  am  willing  to  abide  by  it.” 
Adrienne  turned  slowly  away,  regretting  her 
protest. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  a  large  army  ambu¬ 
lance  rolled  in  upon  Mrs.  Willesly’s  smooth 
lawn.  General  Borden’s  family  and  effects 
promptly  disgorged,  were  soon  comfortably 


Adrienne 


87 


lodged  in  their  spacious,  elegant  apartments. 
But  ere  the  bustle  of  the  arrival  had  subsided, 
Adrienne  had  slipped  away  to  her  room,  content 
to  throw  herself  into  the  arms  of  a  capacious 
chair  and  give  herself  up  to  a  line  of  thought — 
dwelling  upon  the  past,  upon  Mr.  Strafford, 
who  stood  out  clearly  upon  her  mental  canvas 
ploughing  the  Atlantic  with  his  yacht  at  some 
distant  point.  Her  brief  acquaintance  with 
him,  his  many  kind  courtesies,  even  the  music 
of  the  waltz  she  had  danced  with  him,  came 
drifting  over  her.  But  all  at  once  she  paled  sud¬ 
denly  as  the  same  unreasoning  thought  of  his 
attachment  for  Miss  Conrad  caused  a  darting 
pain  through  her  heart.  Distress  and  pride 
strove  in  her  mind,  and  courageously  rising 
from  her  chair,  as  it  were,  she  put  it  at  arm’s 
length,  and  set  to  work  preparing  to  meet  more 
cheerful  company  than  her  own  somber  reflec¬ 
tions. 

An  hour  later,  General  Borden  and  his  wife 
were  presented  to  Miss  de  Courcelles  at  the  sup¬ 
per  table,  and  were  so  extraordinarily  impressed 
by  the  ideal  beauty  of  her  face,  and  indefinable 
grace  of  manner,  for  an  instant  seemed  scarcely 
able  to  take  their  eyes  away  from  her. 

“I  don’t  wish  to  be  meddlesome,  Adrienne,” 
Mrs.  Willesly  laughingly  accosted  the  girl  as 
she  was  taking  her  seat  at  the  table,  “but  I  have 
wondered  where  you  were  keeping  yourself  all 


88 


Adrienne 


the  afternoon,  and  naturally  concluded  you 
were  on  one  of  your  favored  rambles  with  the 
children.” 

The  girl  glanced  with  a  sunny  flash  in  her 
eyes  at  Mrs.  Willesly,  hut  her  reply  came  in 
demure  tones. 

“You  force  the  reluctant  confession  from  me 
that  I  have  spent  the  entire  afternoon  in  my 
own  room  absorbed  in  the  pleasant  occupation 
of  reading  and  meditating.” 

“Then,”  laughed  Mrs.  Willesly,  teasingly,  “I 
grow  suspicious,  and  more  curious  every  mo¬ 
ment  as  to  what  the  end  will  be.  For  is  it  not 
so  that  you  were  so  delighted  with  the  ‘blue 
stocking’  we  happened  to  hear  air  her  senti¬ 
ments  the  other  evening  on  ‘woman  suffrage,’ 
‘temperance/  and  such  like,  that  you  are  pre¬ 
paring  an  exegesis  on  the  subject  that  will  im¬ 
mortalize  your  name  in  the  pages  of  some  liter¬ 
ary  or  scientific  magazine?” 

“Pardon  me,”  said  the  General,  looking 
across  the  table  at  Adrienne,  with  a  humorous 
twinkle  in  his  eyes,  “but  I  am  sure  Miss  de 
Courcelles  would  never  impress  one  as  belong¬ 
ing  to  that  particular  class  of  individuals  who 
travel  and  lecture,  or  even  write,  on  woman’s 
suffrage.” 

Adrienne  opened  her  beautiful  eyes  brightlv, 
as  with  a  graceful  bend  of  her  figure  toward  the 
General  she  laughingly  accepted  the  challenge. 


Adrienne 


89 


“I  have  heard  it  said,  General,  there  is  phil¬ 
osophy  in  meditating,  and  if  thereby  one  should 
discover  accidentally  that  a  certain  talent  lay 
dormant  in  one’s  brain,  would  it  be  right,  be¬ 
cause  it  should  not  be  the  usual  occupation  of 
woman,  to  condemn  it  to  extinction?  But,”  with 
a  lovely  smile  and  a  little  ripple  of  laughter,  “as 
I  do  not  feel  disposed  to  trespass  upon  the  lim¬ 
its  of  my  proper  sphere,  there  is  no  danger  of 
my  ever  treading  so  mistaken  a  path.” 

“I  am  sure,”  said  the  General,  “lectures  from 
the  stump  only  exhaust  effort,  without  bring¬ 
ing  about  the  desired  result.  No  good,  as  a 
rule,  is  accomplished  by  dictating  morals  to 
those  who  have  been  hardened  by  the  touch  of 
time.” 

“Really,”  ventured  Mrs.  Willesly,  repressing 
an  arch  smile,  “I  feel  that  it  is  too  bad  that  we 
should  intrude  our  wants  upon  so  grave  a  dis¬ 
cussion  ;  but  may  I  trouble  you,  General,  to  help 
me  to  a  piece  of  the  broiled  chicken?” 

The  General  laughed,  and  as  Mrs.  Borden 
had  made  inquiries  in  regard  to  the  surrounding 
country  and  people  the  conversation  turned 
upon  another  topic. 

The  dignity  and  sweetness  of  Mrs.  Borden 
at  once  won  Adrienne's  admiration,  readily 
recognizing  the  pleasure  that  would  be  hers 
during  their  close  association  in  the  same  house 
perhaps  for  weeks  to  come. 


90 


Adrienne 


But  Rosine,  drawing  Ferriby  aside,  questioned 
her  privately  as  to  who  the  lovely  Miss  de 
Courcelles  could  be,  and  exclaimed  volubly  over 
her  beauty.  Whereupon  the  little  darky,  being 
over-fond  of  the  marvelous,  proceeded  to  ex¬ 
aggerate  glibly. 

“Miss  Adr’en  is  from  furrin  parts.  I  heered 
Miss  Helen  say  that  Miss  Adr’en  wuz  a 
princess  ’mong  dem  folkes  in  Egypt  where 
her  father  lives.” 

“A  princess,  did  you  say?”  repeated  Rosine. 
“Well,  anyway,  she  don’t  look  like  an  Ameri¬ 
can,  I  am  sure.” 

But  suddenly  Ferriby,  with  a  comical  grimace, 
shambled  round  the  corner  of  the  house,  leaving 
Rosine  to  cogitate  at  her  leisure  over  this  piece 
of  ready  invention  on  her  part. 

The  unconscious  object  of  this  little  discus¬ 
sion  was  this  moment  seated  between  the  two 
children  in  the  pony  cart,  which  was  now  seen 
from  the  house  crawling  up  the  broad  white 
road  flooded  with  the  brilliant  afternoon  sun¬ 
shine.  But  as  it  disappeared  across  the  top  of 
the  hill,  two  staff  officers,  coming  from  the  op¬ 
posite  direction,  dashed  up  to  the  gate  and  dis¬ 
mounted.  Crossing  the  lawn  to  the  house  they 
were  met  by  Mrs.  Borden  at  the  front  door,  who 
cordially  invited  them  to  have  seats.  Lieut. 
Belden  accepted,  while  Major  Herndon,  who 
had  private  business  with  the  General,  retired 


Adrienne 


91 


to  his  rooms,  leaving  the  Lieutenant  to  a  cosy 
chat  with  his  General’s  wife,  whom  he  had 
known,  being  from  the  same  city,  from  his  boy¬ 
hood. 

Lieut.  Belden  had  a  refined  and  pleasing  per¬ 
sonality,  and  his  thin,  well-bred  face  lighted  up 
with  interest  and  curiosity  as  he  turned  to  Mrs. 
Borden  and  remarked, 

“You  seem  delightfully  situated  here,  Mrs. 
Borden.” 

“Yes,”  with  an  affable  smile,  “I  often  con¬ 
trast  the  present  surroundings  with  the  primi¬ 
tive  accommodations  I  had  prepared  myself  to 
see,  and  have  lost  no  time  in  mentally  apologiz¬ 
ing  for  my  presumption,  while,  I  assure  you,  I 
am  enjoying  it  all  immensely,  with  the  addition 
of  an  abundance  of  wholesome  country  air. 
And  I  must  not  forget  to  mention  that  the  Gen¬ 
eral,  even,  has  fallen  a  victim  to  the  very  excel¬ 
lent  country  fare.” 

“  Which  confirms  the  truth  of  the  old  saying,” 
laughed  the  Lieutenant,  “that  the  surest  road 
to  a  man’s  heart  is  through  an  elaborate,  well- 
cooked  dinner.” 

“Now  I  am  sure  you  are  distorting  the  old 
saying,  as  well  as  my  meaning,”  she  answered, 
with  an  indulgent  smile.  Whereupon  the 
Lieutenant  made  a  courteous  gesture  of 
apology,  and  laughingly  said, 


92 


Adrienne 


“I  crave  your  pardon,  and  will  change  the 
subject  by  modestly  inquiring  whether  or  not 
any  attractive  young  ladies  are  living  in  the 
neighborhood  ?” 

“I  have  a  pleasant  surprise  for  you,”  prompt-  > 
ly  answered  Mrs.  Borden.  “A  young  lady  is 
stopping  at  this  house  at  present,  who,  but  for 
the  impediment  of  the  war,  long  since  would 
have  been  spirited  away  to  the  land  of  the 
Caliphs.  While,  to  add  to  the  mystery  and 
charm  of  things,  Rosine,  my  maid,  has  been 
told  some  absurd  story — originating  with  the 
servants  of  course — that  this  young  lady  is  a 
princess  in  that  country  in  which  is  her  home.” 

The  Lieutenant  blew  a  long,  low  whistle,  and 
exclaimed  in  dramatic  tones, 

“The  plot  thickens !  A  princess  in  this  house  ? 
When  is  the  royal  personage  visible?” 

Mrs.  Borden  laughed  as  she  answered, 

“Not  this  afternoon,  at  any  rate,  as  she  is 
out  driving.  But,  Lieutenant,  I  must  explain 
that  the  young  lady  in  question  really  is  the 
daughter  of  a  retired  capitalist  who  is  forced  to 
live  in  the  far  East  on  account  of  broken  health. 
Mrs.  Willesly,  our  hostess,  informs  me  she  was 
the  ward  of  her  mother.  The  girl  has  been 
educated  in  the  United  States,  and  is  now  wait¬ 
ing  a  suitable  opportunity  to  join  her  father  at 
his  distant  home,  which  is  his  permanent  resi¬ 
dence.” 


Adrienne 


93 


“  ‘All  that  a  man  hath  will  he  give  for  his 
life/  ”  quoted  the  Lieutenant,  with  a  laugh. 
“But  to  me  it  seems  the  acme  of  selfishness  that 
a  father  should  consign  his  young  daughter  to 
a  life  of  sacrifice  among  semi-barbarians  in 
order  that  he  may  live  out  the  residue  of  his 
allotted  days.” 

However,  it  must  here  be  said  that  from  this 
moment  Lieutenant  Belden  began  to  show  an 
increasing  interest  in  life  and  things  about  him, 
and  to  rally  from  the  effects  of  a  prolonged 
attack  of  homesickness,  under  which  distressing 
malady  he  had  been  laboring  lately,  with  scarce¬ 
ly  any  hope  of  relief. 

An  hour  later  the  two  officers  were  riding 
leisurely  along  toward  camp,  when  suddenlv 
they  were  confronted  in  the  road  by  a  small 
vehicle,  seemingly  weighted  down  with  its  bur¬ 
den  of  wild  dog-wood  blossoms.  In  the  midst 
of  these  floral  decorations,  crowded  together  on 
a  single  seat,  were  two  children  and  a  lovely 
young  girl.  They  were  laughing  merrily,  in 
the  gayest  holiday  spirits,  as  they  whirled  by, 
bestowing  upon  the  two  officers,  as  they  passed, 
an  amused  look  of  curiosity. 

“By  Jove!”  exclaimed  Lieutenant  Belden, 
quickly  wheeling  his  horse  directly  across  the 
road,  as,  struck  by  a  sudden  revelation,  he 
looked  eagerly  after  the  flower-bedecked  vehicle. 
“The  Eastern  princess,  and  no  mistake  !”  And 


94 


Adrienne 


his  eyes,  now  lighting  up  with  a  gleam  of  pleas¬ 
ure,  he  gave  way  to  a  low  amused  laugh.  How 
it  happened,  he  never  knew,  but  something 
woke  in  his  soul  that  suddenly  banished  all  feel¬ 
ing  of  melancholy.  The  sun  seemed  to  .shine 
with  more  exhilarating*  brilliance,  the  fresh 
green  of  the  trees  under  which  he  was  riding 
seemed  to  emit  a  sweeter  fragrance.  The  fol¬ 
lowing  morning,  his  duty  leading  him  to  head¬ 
quarters,  he  considered  himself  fortunate  in¬ 
deed,  as  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  object 
of  his  thoughts,  in  company  with  Mrs.  Borden, 
who,  taking  advantage  of  the  opportunity,  at 
once  introduced  him  with  a  gracious  smile.  As 
he  bowed  low  before  the  beautiful  girl,  mingled 
emotions  of  admiration  and  adoration  swelling 
in  his  heart,  causing  a  rush  of  colors  over  his 
face,  the  thought  was  uppermost  in  his  mind, 
“Herndon  is  right,  she  is  indeed  an  exquisite 
oriental  lily,  as  dainty  and  sweet  as  she  is  be- 
wilderingly  lovely.” 

But  the  girl,  with  a  slight  bend  of  the  head 
and  a  glance  from  her  lovely  eyes,  continued 
on  her  way  down  the  hall,  leaving  Mrs.  Borden 
engaged  in  conversation  with  the  Lieutenant, 
whose  desire  for  a  social  chat  suddenly  evapo¬ 
rated  with  Adrienne’s  disappearance  through  the 
end  door,  when  immediately  contriving  some 
plausible  excuse,  he  retired  to  the  General’s 
apartments,  whom  he  found  seated  at  a  table 


Adrienne 


95 


profoundly  engaged  in  examining  a  roll  of 
papers.  But  raising  his  head  as  the  Lieutenant 
entered,  and  pointing  to  a  chair,  he  smilingly 
asked, 

“You  desire  to  see  me,  Belden?” 

“I  do,  but  I  will  wait  until  you  are  at  leisure.” 

After  a  while  the  General  began  to  fold  the 
document  upon  which  he  had  been  so  assidu¬ 
ously  engaged,  and  throwing  it  upon  the  table, 
turned  quite  around,  facing  Lieutenant  Belden, 
and  said  reflectively, 

“There  is  no  doubt,  Belden,  that  our  inertia 
of  the  past  few  weeks  will  be  broken  by  the 
grave  engagement  now  confronting  us  at  a  very 
early  day.  I  am  positive  General  Grant,  to 
avoid  the  necessity  of  a  siege,  intends  dropping 
down  to  this  point,  and  by  cooperating  with 
the  Union  forces  above,  will  endeavor  to  cap¬ 
ture  Vicksburg  by  assault.  We  must  make  our 
resistance  effective  from  any  point  of  attack 
by  the  enemy.” 

But  there  being  no  ready  response  to  this,  the 
General,  throwing  a  keen,  penetrating  glance 
upon  the  Lieutenant,  to  find  that  he  had  been 
listening  but  impassively,  after  a  slight  pause 
blurted  out, 

“It  seems  to  me,  Belden,  you  are  showing  a 
great  degree  of  indifference  toward  a  very  vital 
question !” 


96 


Adrienne 


“Pardon  me,  General/’  now  straightening 
himself  and  suddenly  alert,  as  he  slowly  passed 
his  hand  across  his  brow.  “My  apparent  in¬ 
attention  is  indeed  reprehensible.  But  I  be¬ 
lieve  I  am  not  feeling  well  this  morning,  and 
have  decided  premonitions  of  an  illness.” 

“An  illness  at  this  stage  of  affairs,”  said  the 
General,  suppressing  his  irate  feelings,  “would 
be  unfortunate.  I  would  advise  you  to  prompt¬ 
ly  consult  a  doctor ;  and,  as  you  are  not  feeling- 
well,  I  will  excuse  you,  hoping  you  may  be  able 
to  bring*  a  better  report  to-morrow.” 

The  General  walked  deliberately  back  to  the 
table  and  resumed  his  occupation,  while  the 
Lieutenant  quietly  rose,  feeling  dismissed,  and 
retired  from  the  room. 

In  the  mean  time,  as  the  days  passed  rapidly 
over,  it  had  occurred  to  Lieutenant  Belden  as 
something  strange,  that  during  his  coming  and 
going  to  and  from  headquarters  he  had  not  been 
fortunate  enough  to  meet  Miss  de  Courcelles, 
and  thinking  it  was  perhaps  an  intentional 
avoidance,  he  rode  away  from  the  house  each 
day  disappointed  and  chagrined,  and  by  a 
swift,  sweeping  gallop  the  longest  way  round 
to  camp,  tried  to  exorcise  the  demon  of  unrest 
that  persistently  assailed  his  dissatisfied  soul. 

The  state  of  his  sentiments  being  transmitted 
in  some  marvelous  way  to  Mrs.  Borden,  called 
forth  all  the  womanly  sympathy  of  which  her 


Adrienne 


97 


generous  nature  was  capable.  So  it  happened 
as  they  were  returning  one  morning  from  a 
delightful  drive  and  the  carriage  was  passing 
over  the  crest  of  a  hill  overlooking  the  expan¬ 
sive  Mississippi  River,  while  Adrienne  was  lean¬ 
ing  forward  with  inexpressible  yearning  on  her 
features,  reminded,  by  the  familiar  sight  of  the 
water  sparkling  through  the  branches  of  trees, 
of  a  brief,  happy  period  in  her  young  life,  bring¬ 
ing  with  it  tender  memories  she  would  fain  for¬ 
get,  suddenly  Mrs.  Borden’s  gentle,  refined 
voice  called  her  back  to  her  present  self. 

“It  seems,  Adrienne,  that  we  have  been 
drawn  together  by  an  affectionate  bond  of  sym¬ 
pathy,  notwithstanding  our  brief  acquaintance, 
while  so  warm  an  attachment  has  sprung  up  in 
my  heart  for  you,  that  I  find  myself  even  indulg¬ 
ing  the  hope  that  one  of  my  soldiers  may  fall 
into  the  good  fortune  of  persuading  you  to  re¬ 
main  with  us,  so  that  I  may  not  have  the  fear  of 
losing  you  entirely  out  of  my  life.”  But  as  she 
watched  the  effect  of  her  words  on  the  girl  she 
saw  no  blush  in  her  cheek,  nor  was  there  any 
emotion  visible,  nor  the  least  tremor  in  the  voice 
that  answered  promptly, 

“I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Borden,  so  flattering  an 
expression  of  rep-ard  from  you  is  sufficiently 
gratifying,  without  any  allusion  to  a  happiness 
which,  for  me,  is  far  in  the  future.” 


98 


Adrienne 


“Ah,”  Mrs.  Borden  sighed  inwardly,  “what 
a  mystery  it  seems  that  a  young  girl  can  resist 
a  young  man  of  Lieutenant  Belden’s  fascina¬ 
tion  and  strong  individuality.”  But  prudently 
deciding  to  let  matters  drop  for  the  present,  she 
persuaded  herself  that  time  yet  would  have  its 
perfect  work  in  the  accomplishment  of  her 
desire. 


CHAPTER  XII 


Congeniality,  the  ingredient  promotive  of 
pleasant  relations,  existed  in  the  hearts  of  this 
little  home  circle,  a  chord  of  sympathy  that 
secured,  as  it  were,  the  charm  of  a  family  union 
in  its  domestic  completeness. 

The  afternoon  being  too  lovely  to  linger  in¬ 
doors,  Adrienne,  armed  with  the  latest  popular 
magazines,  came  downstairs  with  the  intention 
of  treating  herself  to  an  hour’s  undisturbed  rest 
and  enjoyment.  Moving  swiftly  and  lightly 
across  the  lawn,  she  bent  her  steps  to  a  ro¬ 
mantic-looking  spot,  where  rustic  seats  were 
scattered  round  beneath  the  wide  spreading 
shade  of  a  magnificent  water-oak.  She  seated 
herself  and  prepared  to  clip  the  pages,  when 
the  click  of  spurs  coming  near  caught  her  ear. 
Rising  to  her  feet,  she  turned  and  faced  Lieu¬ 
tenant  Belden,  in  company  with  another  officer, 
whom  he  introduced  as  Colonel  Waite,  com¬ 
mander  at  the  fort.  Both  officers  bowed  low 
before  the  girl,  who  received  them  with  her 
usual  ease  and  grace  of  manner,  asking  them 
to  have  seats,  which  they  smilingly  accepted, 
proceeding  at  once  to  make  themselves  agree¬ 
able.  And  truly,  by  the  note  of  gladness  trem- 


100 


Adrienne 


bling  in  his  voice,  the  Lieutenant  had  received 
an  impetus  to  merriment,  as  he  now  chatted 
away,  by  no  means  limited  in  his  powers  to 
entertain.  Colonel  Waite,  on  the  other  hand, 
who  was  reserved  by  nature,  sat  observing  at 
his  leisure  the  charming  picture  Adrienne  made 
as  she  talked  freely  with  the  Lieutenant,  mak¬ 
ing  little  animated  gestures,  and  thought  how 
dainty  she  looked.  But  this  moment  Mrs. 
Borden  and  Mrs.  Willesly  appeared,  coming- 
up  and  joining  them,  and  after  formal  intro¬ 
ductions  they  were  soon  seated  in  a  circle, 
laughing*  and  chatting  in  lively  argument. 
Colonel  Waite  sat  watching  the  sunlight  and 
listened  to  the  breeze  making  a  gentle  ripple 
among  the  leaves,  and  presently  turning  to 
Adrienne,  near  whom  he  sat,  he  said,  with 
marked  deference  in  his  manner, 

“I  find  it  charming  here,  Miss  de  Courcelles, 
as  I  look  upon  this,  one  of  the  old-fashioned 
Southern  homes  of  which  one  hears  so  much, 
and  that  so  singularly  represents  the  tastes  of 
the  people.  Though  I  am  enrolled  in  the  South¬ 
ern  army,  I  live  rather  North  than  South.  But 
since  war  has  become  the  pursuit  of  my  life, 
being  a  devout  worshiper  of  nature,  I  have  at 
least  enjoyed  the  grand,  picturesque  scenery 
through  which  it  has  been  my  pleasure  to  pass 
on  our  extended  marches.  I  have  been  im¬ 
pressed  with  the  thought  that  a  home  some- 


Adrienne 


101 


where  in  the  midst  of  these  limitless  Southern 
forests  would  become  the  ‘garden  spot  of  the 
world’  to  me.” 

“You  would  risk  a  great  deal  to  find  your¬ 
self  mistaken,  perhaps,”  was  the  smiling  reply. 
“I  am  sure  the  exchange  of  gaslit  streets  and 
the  clatter  and  rush  of  the  city  for  an  isolated 
life  on  a  dreary  waste,  would  inevitably  result 
in  a  deplorable  state  of  melancholy  and  disap¬ 
pointment.  Though  it  is  true,  and  the  fact  has 
been  demonstrated,  that  it  is  possible  to  become 
accustomed  to  any  state  in  life.” 

“If  the  question  is  not  too  personal,  Miss  de 
Courcelles,  may  I  ask  if  you  are  speaking  from 
personal  experience?” 

She  laughed,  but  answered  promptly, 

“I  must  acknowledge,  Colonel  Waite,  that 
at  first,  when  I  came  here,  I  was  at  a  loss  to 
know  what  to  do  with  my  time,  but  gradually 
falling  into  the  silent  paths  of  beautiful  nature, 
I  no  longer  crave  the  rush,  tinsel,  and  parade  of 
society.  In  fact,”  now  smiling  upon  him  beam¬ 
ingly,  “I  am  wholly  in  sympathy  with  your 
partiality  for  the  country,  and  feel  that  here  in 
this  quiet  spot  I  have  well  renounced  the  world 
and  its  vanities.” 

As  Adrienne  looked  into  Colonel  Waite’s 
dark,  intellectual  eyes,  and  observed  the  dig¬ 
nity  and  gravity  of  his  face,  she  was  impressed 
with  the  certainty  that  he  was  a  true  gentle- 


102 


Adrienne 


man,  a  brave  soldier — one  who  would  repudiate 
in  letter  or  spirit  the  word  “failure.” 

The  lull  in  the  conversation  of  those  around 
them  called  their  attention,  and  turning  at  once, 
they  discovered  all  eyes  were  bent  upon  a  tall, 
distinguished-looking  man  in  uniform  now 
passing  through  the  gate,  who  looked  about 
him,  and  seeing  the  group  under  the  trees,  came 
forward,  lifting  his  hat  as  he  addressed  them. 

“Pardon  me,  but  may  I  ask  if  these  are  Gen¬ 
eral  Borden’s  headquarters?” 

Doubting  the  evidence  of  her  own  senses, 
Adrienne  had  struggled  to  her  feet,  her  brain 
in  a  whirl,  a  deadly  white  spreading  over  her 
face.  But  as  the  stranger’s  eyes,  in  passing  over 
the  group,  fastened  upon  her  with  visible  aston¬ 
ishment,  she  now  stood  before  him,  flushed  and 
lovely,  while  he  quickly  crossed  over  to  her 
side,  taking  her  hand  in  his  as  he  said,  in  the 
high-bred  tones  she  remembered  so  well, 

“It  is  true  the  unexpected  is  sure  to  happen. 
I  cannot  recover  from  my  surprise,  Miss  de 
Courcelles,  at  seeing  you  so  far  from  home.” 

She  looked  up  with  a  sudden  flash  in  her 
eyes.  “My  surprise  at  seeing  you,  Mr.  Strafford, 
when  I  had  imagined  you  far  away  pursuing  the 
even  tenor  of  your  travels  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Atlantic,  is  altogether  equal  to  your  own.” 

“While  I  trust,  seeing  me  in  the  Confederate 
uniform  will  not  expose  me  to  your  ridicule, 


Adrienne 


103 


that  I  have  dared  enlist  where  my  duty  is  not 
comprised,  thus  perhaps  lowering  my  stand¬ 
ard  of  courage  in  your  eyes.  But,  as  my  time 
is  limited,  may  I  ask  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you 
before  I  leave  this  evening?” 

Adrienne  gave  a  ready,  smiling  assent,  the 
contact  of  his  glance  and  subtle  fascination  of 
his  presence  filling  her  soul  with  an  inexpres¬ 
sible,  tumultuous  joy,  though  she  managed  to 
answer  with  composure, 

“I  shall  be  delighted,  Mr.  Strafford.  But 
now  allow  me  to  introduce  you  to  my  friends.” 

In  the  mean  time,  the  two  officers  had  dis¬ 
covered  Mr.  Strafford  ranked  as  colonel.  Mrs. 
Borden,  immediately  after  the  introduction, 
addressed  him. 

“I  believe,  Colonel  Strafford,  you  asked  to  see 
General  Borden  ?  I  will  take  you  to  his  rooms 
with  pleasure.”  He  bowed,  then  lifting  his  hat 
to  the  remaining  company,  turned  at  once  and 
followed  his  gracious,  smiling  guide  into  the 
house. 

The  unexpected  appearance  of  this  officer 
upon  the  scene,  on  a  private  mission  to  their 
General,  caused  frequent  passages  of  significant 
glances  between  the  Colonel  and  Lieutenant. 
Unable  to  resist  the  promptings  of  curiosity 
they  even  ventured  cautious  inquiry  of 
Adrienne  as  to  how  and  when  she  had  made 
Colonel  Strafford’s  acquaintance. 


104 


Adrienne 


“For,”  said  Colonel  Waite,  “I  am  sure  he  is 
an  Englishman,  who  has  not  long  been  away 
from  his  native  soil.” 

“Yes,”  she  answered  briefly,  “he  is  English. 
I  was  under  the  impression  that  he  had  re¬ 
turned  to  England.  When  I  first  met  him  in 
New  Orleans  he  was  in  the  midst  of  a  pleasure 
cruise.  His  yacht  was  anchored  in  port  quite 
awhile.” 

“To  get  all  the  pleasure  one  can  out  of  liv¬ 
ing  seems  to  be  the  standard  of  life  of  the  Eng¬ 
lish,”  said  Colonel  Waite,  laconically. 

“Is  the  American  standard  any  more  praise¬ 
worthy,  Colonel  ?”  laughed  the  Lieutenant. 
“Leaving  pleasure  altogether  out  of  the  ques¬ 
tion,  I  am  sure  that  zee  are  striving  only  to  get 
all  the  money  we  can  out  of  living,  thus 
squandering  our  God-given  talents  in  the  in¬ 
dulgence  of  so  gross  a  mercenary  spirit  that 
nothing  short  of  another  deluge  can  purify  us.” 

“Yes,”  said  Colonel  Waite,  carefully,  “we 
on  this  side  of  the  world  are  in  much  too  great 
a  hurry,  getting  beyond  the  idea  of  making 
things  better  by  growing  out  of  the  sordid,  up 
to  a  higher  plane  of  existence.” 

Unconscious  of  the  close  scrutiny  he  had 
given  the  meeting  between  Colonel  Strafford 
and  Miss  de  Courcelles,  Lieutenant  Belden  was 
satisfied  that  no  affair-de-coeur  existed  between 
them,  consequently  his  normal  spirits  were  soon 


Adrienne 


105 


in  full  play.  But  presently,  compelled  to  obey 
the  behest  of  duty,  he  turned  a  reluctant  face 
toward  camp.  As  they  walked  side  by  side 
across  the  smooth  grassy  lawn  to  where  their 
horses  were  standing,  Colonel  Waite  remarked, 
with  a  preoccupied  air, 

“I  suppose  the  advent  of  this  officer,  perhaps 
on  a  secret  mission  to  the  Trans-Mississippi 
Department,  portends  an  early  rain  of  shot  and 
shell.  Though  it  is  merely  surmise  on  my  part.” 

“All  right,  Colonel,  let  them  come.  We  will 
meet  them  at  Philippi,”  the  Lieutenant  sang 
out  as  they  rode  away. 

The  measure  of  curiosity  and  interest  mani¬ 
fested  by  Mrs.  Willesly  toward  Col.  Strafford 
was  a  sure  proof  of  the  marked  impression  he 
had  made  upon  her. 

“Rest  assured,  Adrienne,  there  is  mystery 
in  this  procedure,  that  a  foreigner  of  h is  caste 
should  generously  offer  to  spill  his  blood  for 
an  alien  country  bears  absurdity  on  the  face  of 
it.”  But  suddenly  she  perceived  her  remarks 
had  been  addressed  to  empty  space ;  for  the  girl 
had  flown  like  the  wind  up  the  stairway,  where 
she  entered  the  privacy  of  her  own  room, 
throwing  herself  into  a  chair,  as  she  clasped  her 
hands  before  her  eyes  and  exclaimed  aloud, 

“Surely  this  is  not  the  vagary  of  an  unsound 
mind,  or  something  great  has  happened  to  me 
this  day,  the  most  eventful  of  my  life !  But,  oh ! 


106 


Adrienne 


I  hope  indeed  that  I  did  not  betray  the  joy  I  felt 
in  my  heart  at  seeing  him  so  unexpectedly.” 
She  stopped  short,  her  cheeks  glowing,  her 
voice  tremulous  and  broken,  when,  like  an  elec¬ 
tric  shock,  the  thought  of  Miss  Conrad  being 
the  cause  of  Colonel  Strafford  remaining  in  the 
South  flashed  through  her  brain,  causing  her  to 
draw  her  mantle  of  pride  closely  round  her. 
Thus  shrouding  her  heart  in  a  cloud  of  impen¬ 
etrable  reserve,  with  sublime  self-control  she 
managed  to  compose  her  thoughts  into  some 
degree  of  calmness.  However,  at  this  moment 
a  stir  at  the  door  drew  her  facing  the  grinning 
Ferriby. 

“Miss  Adr’en,”  she  giggled,  “a  splendiferous 
lookin’  ossifer  down-stairs  sav  he’d  like  to  see 
you  ’fo’  he  goes.” 

“What  a  little  idiot  you  are,  Ferriby.  I  am 
sure  your  weakness  for  using  big  words  is  as 
absurd  as  your  worship  of  gold  lace  and  cavalry 
spurs  is  sublime.” 

“Yes’m,”  she  answered  in  good  faith,  with 
suppressed  giggles. 

But  a  conflict  of  emotion  was  stirring  in  the 
girl’s  heart  as  she  descended  the  dimly  lighted 
staircase  to  find  Colonel  Strafford  waiting  at 
the  foot.  He  took  her  hand,  at  the  same  time 
glancing  over  her  face  and  figure  with  a  thrill 
of  delight  as  he  led  her  to  a  seat  close  by. 
Though,  instead  of  the  happy  light  he  had  ex- 


Adrienne 


107 


peeled  to  see  in  her  eyes,  he  was  conscious  of 
the  look  of  pain  and  touch  of  cold  that  flitted 
over  her  face  (for  she  had  struggled  to  meet 
him  as  circumstances  demanded),  and  as  he 
looked  down  upon  her  lovely  features,  puzzled 
to  account  for  the  subtle  change  in  her  manner, 
he  refrained  from  telling  her  of  his  love,  think¬ 
ing  at  another  time  perhaps  fate  would  smile 
more  benignly  upon  his  efforts.  So,  with  an 
air  of  firmness,  his  usual  high-bred  tones  in  no 
way  betraying  the  actual  disquiet  of  his  mind, 
he  said, 

“I  have  been  finding  it  difficult  indeed,  Miss 
de  Courcelles,  to  realize  that  we  have  met  again, 
which  has  brought  so  vividly  before  me  my  de¬ 
lightful  sojourn  in  the  fascinating  Crescent 
City.” 

“Ah,  I  remember  it  all  so  well,”  she  answered 
dreamily.  “But  that  I  should  see  you  now 
wearing  the  Confederate  uniform  is  infinitely 
surprising  to  me.” 

“Your  surprise  is  not  by  any  means  equal  to 
my  own,  Miss  de  Courcelles.  I  suppose  my 
attachment  for  the  Southerners,  knowing  I 
could  lend  my  feeble  aid  in  no  other  way  save 
by  joining  the  ranks  in  their  defense,  must  have 
largely  influenced  me  to  drift,  so  to  speak,  into 
the  army.  Besides,  I  will  confess  that  I  was  re¬ 
luctant  to  return  to  England  and  face  the  same 
monotonous  routine.” 


108 


Adrienne 


“But,  Colonel  Strafford/’  she  replied,  with  a 
faintly  ironical  smile  in  her  eyes,  “are  not  you 
running  counter  to  your  national  convictions  by 
indulging  so  democratic  a  spirit?  It  doubtless 
will  unfit  you  thoroughly  for  living  again  under 
the  unchangeable  methods  of  Great  Britain.” 

He  laughed  a  low,  musical  laugh,  but  as 
there  was  no  immediate  response,  looking  up, 
Adrienne  observed  that  his  eyes  were  bent  upon 
her  mourning  garb  with  a  deep  look  of  con¬ 
cern. 

“Pardon  me,  but  may  I  ask  if  you  have  met 
with  the  loss  of  a  dear  relative  or  friend?” 

“Then  you  had  not  heard  of  Mrs.  Somers's 
death,  nor  that  Charles  had  fallen  in  battle?” 

“I  regret  most  sincerely  to  hear  of  it,”  was 
the  answer,  in  grave  tones.  “This  accounts  for 
your  being  here,  Miss  de  Courcelles.” 

“Yes,”  she  said  briefly,  “Mrs.  Willesly  is  the 
daughter  of  my  guardian.” 

“As  I  have  only  a  moment  at  my  disposal, 
having  already  drawn  on  my  limited  time,  I 
wish  to  suggest,  Miss  de  Courcelles,  that  in 
view  of  an  engagement,  which  is  now  hourly 
expected,  it  being  reasonable  to  suppose  the  con¬ 
flict  will  fall  on  this  ground,  that  it  is  expedient 
you  should  withdraw  from  certain  danger. 
Have  you  not  acquaintances  remote  from  this, 
with  whom  you  can  take  refuge  until  it  shall  be 
safe  for  you  to  return?” 


Adrienne 


109 


The  girl  was  infinitely  touched  by  the  anxiety 
in  his  voice,  nevertheless,  with  an  instinct  at 
self-preservation, — she  raised  her  eyes  to  his 
as  she  hardened  her  heart  to  answer  only  in  or¬ 
dinary  tones — 

“Really,  Colonel  Strafford,  I  don't  wish  to  be 
ungracious,  and  will  assure  you  of  my  apprecia¬ 
tion  of  your  timely  warning,  but  I  am  under 
Mrs.  Willesly’s  protection,  therefore  do  not  feel 
at  liberty  to  declare  my  independence  by  desert¬ 
ing  her  in  so  critical  an  hour/’ 

“My  anxiety  for  your  safety  must  plead  my 
excuse  for  having  urged  any  advice  in  the  mat¬ 
ter.  But,  as  I  must  not  delay  a  second  longer,” 
rising  and  taking  her  hand  in  his,  with  that 
grave,  subtle  earnestness  peculiar  to  him,  “I 
must  say  good-by,  with  the  hope  that  these  evil 
times  may  soon  pass,  and  that  one  may  think 
of  being  happy  again.” 

He  took  his  hat,  and  bowed  profoundly,  then 
strode  out  into  the  night,  leaving  the  girl  mo¬ 
tionless,  and  pale  as  death,  when,  suddenly 
breaking  into  a  passion  of  tears,  she  cried  as  one 
only  grieves  over  the  body  of  their  cherished 
dead.  But  presently  turning  slowly  away  she 
went  up  to  her  room  and  bathed  her  face  to 
remove  the  traces  of  tears.  She  began  to  pace 
the  room  in  anxiety,  and  struggle  as  she  would 
to  hide  it,  the  pallor  on  her  face  was  evident 
even  by  the  dim  light  on  the  staircase  as  she 


110 


Adrienne 


presently  wended  her  way  to  the  parlor.  For 
the  first  time  in  weeks  she  now  raised  the  piano, 
thinking  to  quiet  her  sad,  trembling  heart  by 
singing  a  favorite  German  air;  and  the  next 
moment  the  exquisite  contralto  voice,  rolling 
out  into  the  room,  filled  it  with  thrilling  melo¬ 
dy  as  it  swelled  pure  and  high,  and  at  last 
triumphant,  so  startling  General  and  Mrs.  Bor¬ 
den  that,  as  the  last  notes  were  dying  away,  the 
singer’s  ears  were  astonished  by  a  burst  of 
enthusiasm  at  her  elbow. 

“Why,  child,”  exclaimed  Mrs.  Borden,  “you 
are  a  perpetual  surprise.  I  shall  take  it  a  serious 
affront  that  you  have  kept  us  in  ignorance  of 
your  delicious  voice.” 

“I  appreciate  the  compliment,  coming  from 
you ,  Mrs.  Borden,”  the  girl  answered  brightly, 
though  there  was  sadness  in  her  eyes. 

“But  there  is  a  quality  in  your  voice,  Miss 
Adrienne,  one  seldom  has  the  p*ood  fortune  to 
hear,”  said  the  General,  earnestly.  “The  ingre¬ 
dient  of  which  I  speak  is  feeling.  You  sing  as 
though  you  are  under  the  influence  of  an  inspi¬ 
ration.” 

Turning  her  head  so  that  he  might  not  detect 
the  color  coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks, 
Adrienne  struggled  to  reply  with  outward  com¬ 
posure, 

“I  feel  infinitely  flattered,  General,  at  your 
opinion,  but  will  frankly  say  that  I  am  sure  my 


Adrienne 


111 


voice  would  be  regarded  with  derision  by  highly 
critical  teachers.  Nevertheless,  I  agree  with 
you  that  the  most  impressive  music  is  that  which 
is  rendered  by  inspiration.” 

But  that  night  Adrienne  crept  softly  to  bed 
and  wept  her  sad  tears  in  solitude,  for  the  epi¬ 
sode  of  the  afternoon  had  returned  in  full  force. 
She  thought  long  over  Colonel  Strafford’s  ex¬ 
traordinary  appearance  in  their  midst.  She 
felt,  knowing  he  was  a  man  of  intrepid  will  and 
purpose,  that  he  would  undoubtedly  accomplish 
his  undertaking.  Sleep,  the  sweet  restorer, 
utterly  forsook  her  tired  eyes,  and  accordingly, 
with  the  dawn  of  a  new  day,  she  felt  sc  listless, 
such  a  want  of  interest  in  her  surroundings,  she 
was  not  in  the  humor  for  the  company  of  others. 
But  by  drawing  heavily  upon  her  dowry  of 
patience  and  self-control  she  managed  to  over¬ 
come  in  a  measure  her  seriously  depressed  con¬ 
dition.  It  being  Sunday,  she  found  many  pas¬ 
sages  in  her  Bible  singularly  comforting  to  her 
in  her  present  state  of  mind. 

Lieutenant  Belden,  appearing  at  headquarters 
as  usual  in  the  morning,  was  taken  by  surprise 
at  seeing  Adrienne  sitting  in  the  hall  quietly 
reading.  She  looked  smilingly  up  into  his  face 
with  the  dark  magnetic  eyes  he  had  found  so 
difficult  to  resist,  as  she  said  brightly, 

“So,  Lieutenant,  this  lovely  sunshiny  day  has 
lured  you  away  from  the  fascinations  of  camp 


112 


Adrienne 


life.  1  have  just  been  thinking  that,  notwith¬ 
standing  my  fondness  and  admiration  of  the 
country,  I  should  object  seriously  to  living  per¬ 
manently  upon  a  remote  river  plantation,  where 
one’s  movements  are  so  restricted,  so  entirely 
dependent  upon,  so  to  speak,  ‘time  and  tide.’  ” 

“It  is  but  natural  to  sigh  for  a  change,”  said 
Lieutenant  Belden.  “Our  poor  human  nature 
continually  reaches  out  after  something  beyond 
the  treadmill  of  dull  routine.” 

“While,”  she  added,  laughing,  “that  one 
must  live  eight  miles  from  church  privileges 
would  necessarily  cause  one  to  grow  akin  to 
heathens.” 

“It  is  a  deplorable  fact  that  even  in  this 
Christian  enlightenment  there  is  a  tendency  to 
retrograde,  held  in  check  alone  by  keeping  in 
touch  with  the  ways  of  Truth.  I  too  was  think¬ 
ing,  on  my  way  to  headquarters  this  morning, 
this  serene  and  lovely  day,  with  an  atmosphere 
of  peace  and  restfulness  enveloping  the  world, 
is  portentous  in  its  silence  along  our  lines,  which 
doubtless  is  but  the  'calm  before  the  storm.’ 
There  is  no  use  in  crossing  the  bridge,  however, 
until  we  get  to  it.”  Now  taking  up  the  Bible 
she  had  placed  face  downward  beside  her,  and 
turning  to  the  front  leaf  upon  which  her  name 
was  beautifully  inscribed  in  gilt  letters,  he  said, 
“your  name  is  French,  of  course.” 


Adrienne 


113 


“Oh,  yes,  I  am  both  Spanish  and  French,  on 
my  father’s  side.” 

“Then,  are  you  a  Catholic?” 

But  before  she  could  answer  he  proceeded  to 
read  one  of  the  Psalms,  his  voice,  vibrating* 
under  the  sentiment  of  the  verses,  so  charming 
her,  that  chancing*  this  moment  to  look  into  her 
face  flushed  a  rosy  red,  his  heart  beat  quickly  to 
the  eager  hope  that  a  great  happiness  was  in 
store  for  him  in  the  near  future. 

At  this  point  the  sound  of  wheels  drew  both 
their  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  drive.  Adrienne 
rose  at  once,  and  looked  out  in  time  to  see  a 
young  lady  enter  the  walk,  coming  briskly 
toward  the  house. 

“A  visitor,”  she  cried,  “and  surely  it  is 
Kittie!” 

“Oh,  Adrienne,”  Kittie  exclaimed,  her  face 
beaming  with  delighted  smiles  as  she  threw  her 
arms  round  her  dear  friend  in  the  old  affection¬ 
ate  way,  “can  it  be  I  have  found  you  at  last? 
And  just  to  think,  it  was  by  the  merest  chance 
I  heard  you  were  so  near  me.” 

“I  had  not  even  dreamed  of  such  a  thing, 
Kittie.” 

“I  am  sure  of  it,  as  nothing  could  have  kept 
us  apart  so  long.  But  you  cannot  imagine  the 
task  I  have  had  persuading  father  to  consent 
to  my  hunting  you  up.  Those  raids,  you  know, 
that  are  now  becoming  so  frequent  and  disas- 


114 


Adrienne 


trous,  are  his  terror  by  day  and  by  night.  And 
it  does  seem  sad  indeed,  that  our  soldiers,  so 
brave,  so  true,  and  determined  to  fight  to  the 
bitter  end,  will  be  utterly  unable  to  shield  our 
country  from  the  final  blow.  It  stands  to  reason 
our  pitiful  odds  cannot  hold  out  forever  against 
the  whole  world.” 

“Ah,  Kittie,  our  generals  are  of  undaunted 
courage,  whose  perseverance  and  strategy  will 
yet  accomplish  a  grand  victory,  weak  though  in 
numbers  we  may  be.  But,  tell  me  how  far  you 
live  from  this.” 

“Eighteen  long  miles.  And  when  I  confess 
to  you  that  I  have  been  traveling  since  early 
dawn  over  the  smoothest  of  roads,  you  can 
imagine  what  a  jaunt  it  is.  While  I  am  under  a 
solemn  promise  to  father  not  to  prolong  my 
visit  over  two  hours,  which  will  barely  give  me 
time  to  reach  home  before  total  darkness  shall 
overtake  me.” 

Meantime,  Kittie  had  acknowledged  the  in¬ 
troduction  to  Lieutenant  Belden,  by  a  bright, 
careless  nod,  when,  the  next  moment,  turning 
to  Adrienne,  she  asked, 

“But  how  came  you  here,  Adrienne?” 

“Surely,  you  know  Mrs.  Willesly  is  the 
daughter  of  my  guardian?” 

“Surely,  I  did  not.  But  I  have  not  forgot¬ 
ten  how  cruelly  your  guardian  tore  you  from 


Adrienne 


115 


us  at  school,  not  so  much  as  consulting  your 
wish  in  the  matter,  which  I  resent  to  this  day/' 

“Are  you  allowing  your  prejudice  to  follow 
its  object  into  the  grave,  Kittie?”  said  Adrienne 
in  mild  rebuke. 

“Since  we  have  been  brought  together  again, 
I  am  all  right  now — disposed  to  be  at  peace  with 
the  world,  living  or  dead.” 

Kittie’ s  downright  sayings  secretly  amused 
Lieutenant  Belden,  who  sat  near,  with  his  eyes 
bent  upon  the  pages  of  a  newspaper. 

“But,  Kittie,”  was  Adrienne’s  next  question, 
by  way  of  changing  the  subject,  “tell  me  what 
you  have  done  with  your  brave  resolutions  to 
serve  your  country?  Your  avowed  intention 
in  that  direction  on  one  occasion  at  school  now 
looms  up  before  me  from  the  dim  shadows  of 
the  past.” 

Kittie  laughed  serenely.  “I  am  sure  you 
would  not  have  been  disappointed  if  I  could 
have  made  up  my  mind  to  defy  custom.  The 
fact  is,”  the  sense  of  the  ridiculous  now  spring¬ 
ing  into  life  in  her  eyes,  “after  grave  considera¬ 
tion,  my  dear,  I  decided  we  were  too  many 
centuries  removed  from  Joan  of  Arc,  who 
‘buckled  on  her  armor,  mounted  her  charger, 
and  made  the  world  ring  with  her  deeds  of 
prowess,’  to  attempt  to  imitate  a  career  so  bril¬ 
liant.” 

“Which  means,  Kittie?” 


116 


Adrienne 


“That  I  have  exercised  a  woman’s  privilege 
to  change  my  mind.  My  ambition  for  notoriety 
in  that  direction  has  been  gradually  oozing 
through  the  sieve  of  intervening  days,  while, 
of  late,  I  have  been  entertained  watching  the 
maneuvers  of  our  famous  ‘parlor’  scouts,  who, 
instead  of  accomplishing  brave  exploits  on  be¬ 
half  of  their  country,  employ  their  idle  mo¬ 
ments  ‘storming  the  maiden’s  castle,’  and  amus¬ 
ing  themselves  as  devotees  to  their  enticing 
charms,  unable  to  tear  themselves  away,  even 
at  the  behest  of  duty.  I  am  positive  such 
knight-errantry  has  had  no  parallel  since  the 
middle  ages.” 

“I  see,  Kittie,”  laughed  Adrienne,  “you  are 
as  incorrigible  as  ever.  Time,  the  dreaded 
conqueror  of  all,  will  have  no  effect  in  sober¬ 
ing  you,  I  am  afraid.” 

But  Kittie  unduti fully  remained  three  hours, 
and  was  so  continually  bubbling  over  with  fun 
that  the  music  of  her  merry  laugh  touched  the 
heart  of  every  member  of  the  household,  all  of 
whom  had  duly  presented  themselves  to  make 
her  acquaintance. 

Finally,  though,  as  the  time  was  up,  Kittie 
exacted  a  solemn  promise  from  Adrienne  that 
she  would  visit  her  without  fail  during  the  fol¬ 
lowing  week,  then  unwillingly  turned  her  face 
toward  home,  carrying  with  her  the  remem¬ 
brance  of  a  short,  bright,  happy  visit. 


Adrienne 


117 


“I  like  your  friend,  Adrienne.  She  is  so  full 
of  life  and  animation,”  said  Mrs.  Borden  as 
they  lingered  on  the  veranda  watching  the  car¬ 
riage  as  it  slowly  wound  its  way  over  the  brow 
of  the  hill. 

“Yes,”  answered  Adrienne,  now  returning 
Kittie’s  last  wave  of  her  handkerchief  from  the 
carriage  window,  “hers  is  a  merry  spirit,  and 
though  often  ridiculous,  she  is  the  same  de¬ 
lightful  Kittie.  She  has  a  sweet,  genuine 
nature,  but  is  frequently  flippant,  even  given 
to  nonsense.” 

“Pardon  me,  Miss  de  Courcelles,”  said 
Lieutenant  Belden,  who  had  this  moment 
joined  them,  “Miss  McVea  is  original,  out  of 
the  usual,  and  very  charming.  She  is  quite  a 
character  study.” 


CHAPTER  XIII 


The  morning  was  deliciously  cool,  and  bril¬ 
liant  with  sunlight,  which,  with  a  glow  on  her 
beautiful  face,  Adrienne  seemed  to  enjoy  as 
she  lingered  beside  the  little  front  gate,  care¬ 
lessly  leaning  against  the  post.  As  the  fresh 
morning  breeze  gently  ruffled  the  soft  fluffy 
locks  of  her  dusky  hair,  and  fanned  into  ripples 
the  folds  of  her  thin  summer  dress,  she  uncon¬ 
sciously  indulged  a  reverie.  But  the  next  mo¬ 
ment  she  was  roused  by  the  sudden  crack  of  a 
whip.  Raising  her  head,  she  saw  Uncle  Abram, 
seated  high  in  a  wagon,  coming  forward.  He 
pulled  up  opposite  her,  calling  out  in  a  cheer¬ 
ful  morning  salutation, 

“Glad  to  see  you  lookin’  so  peart-like,  dis 
fine  mornin’,  young  Mistis.” 

“Thanks,  Uncle  Abram,  I  am  always  well, 
and  it  is  so  lovely  this  morning.  But  where 
are  you  off  to  even  before  the  breakfast  hour?” 

“Goin’  arter  rashuns,  young  Mistis.  ’Ka’se 
dere  is  no  tellin’,  dese  onsartin  times,  what 
mout  happen  To’  de  day  closes;  an’  I  like  to 
prepare  again’  onexpected  trouble.” 

Replacing  his  hat  upon  his  white  wooly  head, 
with  a  flourish  of  his  whip,  Uncle  Abram  con- 


Adrienne 


119 


tinued  on  his  way,  shouting  in  resonant  voice 
the  old  camp  meeting  chorus,  “I  am  bound  for 
the  promised  land,”  the  girl  standing  and  listen¬ 
ing  until  the  last  reverberating  note  had  died 
away  in  the  distance. 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  same  day. 
Adrienne  was  alone  on  the  veranda,  pacing  to 
and  fro  in  the  stillness  of  the  night.  The  moon 
had  risen  clear  and  silvery,  reflecting  the 
branches  of  the  trees  across  the  white  columns 
of  the  house.  Suddenly  she  paused  as  the  mur¬ 
mur  of  voices  caught  her  ear  (for  in  conse¬ 
quence  of  Uncle  Abram’s  failure  to  reach 
home  at  the  usual  time,  Adrienne  was  aware 
that  Aunt  Polly,  his  wife,  taking  several 
women  from  the  quarters  with  her,  had  gone 
forward  to  meet  him),  and  gazing  out  on  the 
broad  white  road,  now  gleaming  in  the  moon¬ 
light  bright  as  day,  she  descried  a  wagon  creep¬ 
ing  along,  followed  by  the  women,  whose 
mournful  cries  and  lamentations  brought  every 
member  of  the  household  to  the  veranda,  in 
terror  and  dismay.  Suddenly  Ferriby  popped 
up,  with  eyes  stretched  big  and  wide,  as  she 
jerked  out,  spasmodically, 

“Miss  Helen,  po’  Uncle  Abram  is  shot  daid ! 
Dey  say  de  Yankees  kill  him.” 

“Hold  your  tongue,  Ferriby,”  Mrs.  Willesly 
spoke  sharply.  “I  am  sure  that  is  not  so.  The 
General  here  would  be  the  first  to  know  of  their 


120 


Adrienne 


presence  in  the  country.  I  am  going  myself 
and  find  out  the  cause  of  the  trouble.”  Suiting 
the  action  to  her  words,  Mrs.  Willesly  left  the 
house  in  the  wake  of  the  wagon  and  procession 
on  their  way  to  the  quarters. 

Meanwhile,  Adrienne  had  been  trying  to 
realize  that  the  old  man,  whom  she  had  seen  in 
the  early  morning  so  full  of  life  and  prepara¬ 
tions  for  the  future,  was  now  lying  cold  and 
rigid  in  death.  What  a  strange  fatality,  she 
thought,  that  the  evening  had  fulfilled  the  pro¬ 
phetic  chorus  of  his  song,  sung  in  the  beauty 
and  gladness  of  the  morning  as  he  rolled  on  but 
too  surely  to  the  “promised  land.”  An  hour 
had  passed,  when  Mrs.  Willesly  returned  to  the 
house  with  a  condensed  but  graphic  account 
of  Uncle  Abram’s  untimely  death,  given  by  the 
man  who  had  accompanied  the  body  home. 

“Poor  old  Abram’s  death  was  purely  acci¬ 
dental,”  said  she.  “It  seems  two  men,  under 
the  influence  of  drink,  were  having  a  free  fight 
in  the  street,  when  a  stray  pistol  ball  entered 
the  store  in  which  Abram  was  standing  beside 
the  counter,  that  moment  in  the  act  of  taking  a 
chew  of  tobacco,  which  is  still  clinched  between 
his  teeth.  The  ball  passed  through  his  temples, 
causing  instant  death.  The  plug  is  still 
clutched  in  his  hand  in  the  death  grip.  Poor 
Abram,  so  kind,  so  faithful,  so  true.  How 
strange  it  is  he  should  have  met  such  a  fate!” 


Adrienne 


121 


And  she  was  not  ashamed  of  the  tears  that  were 
now  coursing  down  her  cheeks,  but  sat  ponder¬ 
ing  over  the  many  kind,  unselfish  acts  she  had 
received  at  the  hands  of  this  devoted  old  family 
servant. 

Adrienne  turned  away  and  quietly  sought 
Aunt  Polly’s  cabin,  in  the  silence  of  the  night, 
whom  she  found  remarkably  composed  under 
the  circumstances,  answering  the  girl’s  low 
spoken  words  of  sympathy  with  wonderful  self- 
control. 

“You  see,  young  Mistis,”  she  said,  “it’s  jes’ 
dis  way.  My  ole  man  ain’t  cheated  out’n  many 
days  nohow,  an’  he  wuz  a  Christian.  No, 
honey,  I  ain’t  ’stressed,  ’ka’se  I  know  he’s  at 
rest.” 

Such  an  exhibition  of  courage,  from  so  crude 
a  source,  told  upon  the  girl.  She  returned  to 
the  house  with  her  hopes  strengthened  and  a 
more  firmly  rooted  faith. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


Events  had  so  shaped  themselves  that  on  the 
following  morning  the  entire  staff,  wearing  on 
their  faces  a  serious  look  of  gravity  that  be¬ 
spoke  weighty  matters  under  discussion,  ap¬ 
peared  at  headquarters,  at  once  seeking  private 
audience  with  their  chief. 

Impressed  with  a  vague  feeling  that  some¬ 
thing  of  moment  was  on  hand,  though  not  in 
the  least  apprehensive  of  the  real  nature  of  the 
situation,  Adrienne  went  away  to  her  room,  not 
a  little  disturbed  and  anxious,  and  was  stand¬ 
ing  beside  the  window  watching  the  departing 
officers  riding  away  from  the  house  in  correct 
order,  when  suddenly  she  was  aware  the  room 
was  flooded  with  the  fragrance  of  flowers,  and 
turning  round  her  eyes  fell  on  Rosine  now  com¬ 
ing  toward  her  with  a  lovely  bouquet  in  her 
hand  which  she  presented  the  girl.  “With 
Lieutenant  Belden’s  compliments.” 

“How  perfectly  exquisite,”  cried  Adrienne, 
a  delighted  rosy  flush  spreading  over  her  cheeks 
as  she  gathered  the  flowers  into  her  hands,  and 
bent  her  head  to  breathe  their  sweetness.  But 
her  face  sobered  perceptibly  as  she  cried  out  in 
her  heart,  “Oh,  why  is  it  so,  that  even  my 


Adrienne 


123 


enjoyment  of  this  simple  little  tribute  should 
be  dampened  by  its  measure  of  unpleasantness  ?” 
And  she  mentally  hated  herself  that  she  should 
feel  so  wholly  unable  to  reciprocate  the  interest 
with  which  the  giver  seemed  to  regard  her. 

In  accordance  with  the  promise  she  had 
given  Aunt  Polly  that  she  would  sing  her  “ole 
man's1'  favorite  hymn  at  his  burial,  at  ten 
o’clock  Adrienne  appeared  in  the  lower  hall 
ready  to  start  on  her  solemn  mission,  and  was 
standing  a  moment  with  her  face  buried  in  the 
flowers,  which  she  still  held  in  her  hand,  when 
Lieutenant  Belden  unexpectedly  entered.  He 
paused,  taking  in  at  a  glance  the  situation.  A 
swift  gleam  of  hope,  almost  satisfaction,  flashed 
over  his  face;  for  this  simple  little  act  of  the 
girl,  though  only  a  trifle,  revived  confidence  in 
his  heart. 

“I  am  glad,  Lieutenant,”  she  said,  looking 
up  with  smiling  eyes,  and  for  an  instant  a  pink 
glow  was  in  her  cheeks,  “of  the  opportunity  of 
thanking  you  again  for  these  lovely  flowers — 
these  beautiful  reminders  of  heaven.” 

“I  feel  infinitely  flattered,  Miss  de  Courcelles, 
I  assure  you,”  he  said,  bowing  low.  “But  may 
I  ask  whither  you  are  tending  this  morning?” 

“Uncle  Abram’s  funeral  is  at  this  hour  and 
I  have  given  my  promise  to  be  there.” 

“Will  you  allow  me  the  privilege  of  accom¬ 
panying  you?”  he  asked  solicitously. 


124 


Adrienne 


She  hesitated  a  moment,  then  said, 

“I  am  afraid,  Lieutenant,  the  experience 
would  prove  anything  but  pleasant  for  you.” 

“Rest  tranquil,  Miss  de  Courcelles,  I  am  sure 
I  shall  be  able  to  acquit  myself  creditably,  never 
fear.” 

After  arranging  the  flowers  in  a  handsome 
rose-bowl  filled  with  fresh  water  and  placing 
it  on  a  stand  in  the  hall,  Adrienne  and  Lieuten¬ 
ant  Belden  started  out,  walking  slowly  down 
the  broad  street  leading  between  the  quarters, 
shaded  on  either  side  by  magnificent  oaks,  in¬ 
terspersed  with  the  old-fashioned  locust  now 
in  full  bloom,  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers,  as 
they  took  in  the  cleanliness  and  pleasing  appear¬ 
ance  of  the  low  white-washed  cabins  border¬ 
ing  the  long  stretch  of  avenue,  regaling  delight¬ 
fully  their  senses. 

The  funeral  cortege,  made  up  of  the  old 
man’s  many  friends  and  boon  companions,  was 
just  in  the  act  of  moving.  The  Lieutenant  and 
Adrienne  followed  slowly.  As  they  advanced 
deeper  into  the  forest,  soon  Uncle  Abram’s 
freshly  dug  grave  loomed  up,  a  solemn  and 
suggestive  sight,  while  directly  over  the  open 
grave,  perched  upon  a  branch  of  the  tree,  a 
sweet-singing  bird  was  chanting  in  low  notes  a 
requiem  for  the  departed  soul.  All  at  once, 
in  the  ecstasy  of  religious  fervor,  an  old- 
fashioned  hymn  swelled  out  over  valley  and 


Adrienne 


125 


hill-side,  in  melancholy  echoes,  from  the  large 
assemblage.  After  this  came  an  agonizing,  fer¬ 
vent,  impressive  prayer  from  the  'colored  divine/ 
so  loudly  emphasized  on  all  sides  by  groanings 
and  intonings  from  the  mourners  that  the  scene 
partook  of  the  weird  and  uncanny.  The  next 
moment,  “Jesus,  Lover  of  My  Soul,”  sung  to  a 
simple,  touching  air  by  Adrienne’s  sweet  con¬ 
tralto  voice,  of  a  peculiar  charm  and  timbre,  so 
startled  the  Lieutenant  that  he  changed  color. 
It  was  a  revelation  that  sank  deep  into  his  soul, 
never  to  be  eradicated.  She  sang  it  through 
to  the  end,  the  negroes  bending  and  swaying 
their  bodies  to  its  cadence  and  rhythm,  while 
the  young  officer's  curious  glance  traveled  over 
the  crowd  of  black  faces  encircling  the  grave, 
thinking  to  himself  that  never  before  had  he 
been  placed  in  quite  so  novel  a  position.  But 
as  she  ceased,  his  gaze  wandered  back  to  the 
dainty  girl  by  his  side,  in  time  to  see  a  tear 
fall  upon  her  somber  dress,  and,  stooping,  he 
whispered  a  proposal  to  leave,  as  the  thudding- 
dirt  had  begun  to  fall  on  the  coffin  lid. 

As  they  walked  slowly  away  there  was  a 
shadow  on  the  girl’s  sweet  face  that  did  not 
vanish,  even  when  they  had  reached  the  open 
sunshine.  Presently,  looking  up  into  Lieuten¬ 
ant  Belden’s  face,  she  said, 

“I  want  to  thank  you,  Lieutenant,  for  your 
kindness.  It  was  a  relief  not  to  have  been  alone 


126 


Adrienne 


out  there.  Though  I  feel  distressed  indeed  at 
Uncle  Abram’s  untimely  death,  he  is  gone, 
never  to  come  back ;  his  place  will  never  be  filled 
in  this  family.” 

“If  I  have  served  you  in  any  way,  Miss  de 
Courcelles,  I  am  amply  repaid,  I  assure  you. 
You  must  allow  me  to  say  that  I  no  longer 
wonder  at  your  power  to  win  all  hearts,”  and 
now  he  looked  intently  down  upon  the  droop¬ 
ing  head.  “For  my  part,  I  will  freely  con¬ 
fess  that  since  I  first  met  you  I  have  thought 
of  no  one  else — dreamed  of  no  one  else;  and 
though  I  may  have  to  give  you  up,  you  can 
never  know  how  entirely  I  love  you.  Let  me 
plead  with  you  not  to  think  lightly  of  what 
means  life  to  me.”  He  stopped  abruptly,  for 
his  voice  had  grown  husky  with  feeling.  But 
as  she  slowly  shook  her  head,  glancing  up  into 
his  sad,  brooding  face,  there  was  no  mistaking 
the  gravity  in  her  eyes  and  voice  as  she  said, 
in  low,  sweet  tones, 

“Believe  me,  Lieutenant  Belden,  I  cannot  tell 
how  grieved  I  am  at  this.  I  must  not  encour¬ 
age  your  love,  nor  must  you  dwell  upon  the 
thought.  Please  forget  it  as  soon  as  possible 
by  putting  it  entirely  out  of  your  heart.” 

They  had  reached  the  veranda.  The  Lieuten¬ 
ant  replied,  with  a  little  touch  of  sadness  in  his 
voice, 


Adrienne 


127 


‘‘Perhaps  I  have  presumed  too  much  on  so 
recent  an  acquaintance.  I  thank  you,  Miss  de 
Courcelles,  for  your  ready  and  cool  suggestions, 
and  assure  you  it  shall  be  as  you  wish.”  Bow¬ 
ing  low,  he  left  her  standing  with  flushed 
cheeks,  her  heart  beating  violently  at  the 
thought  of  what  had  occurred.  She  felt  there 
was  no  accounting  for  the  vagaries  of  the 
human  heart,  as  strive  as  she  would,  love  re¬ 
fused  to  spring  into  life  at  her  bidding. 

An  hour  later,  as  Lieutenant  Belden  left  the 
General’s  rooms,  his  eager  glance  round  in 
search  of  Adrienne  meeting  with  disappoint¬ 
ment,  he  was  conscious  of  an  unspeakable, 
humiliated,  and  hurt  feeling  in  his  heart ;  while 
the  girl  herself,  sitting  in  her  room  in  moody 
silence,  was  running  over  in  her  mind  the  un¬ 
pleasant  ordeal — which  she  sincerely  deplored 
— through  which  she  had  just  passed. 

Mrs.  Borden,  having  observed  the  brooding 
melancholy  on  the  Lieutenant’s  face,  surmis¬ 
ing  the  cause,  exclaimed  to  herself, 

“If  that  foolish  girl  has  rejected  him,  I  shall 
indeed  be  more  disappointed  than  I  care  to 
acknowledge  to  myself.  She  is  so  lovely,  and 
is  charmingly  suited  to  him.” 


CHAPTER  XV 


General  Borden,  his  wife,  and  Adrienne 
formed  a  trio  at  the  breakfast  table  the  next 
morning.  Mrs.  Willesly,  having  spent  a  sleep¬ 
less  night  with  a  pain  in  her  face,  was  not 
present. 

Adrienne,  a  little  pale  perhaps,  but  lovely  in 
her  pallor,  presided  at  table  with  her  usual  ease 
of  manner.  But  the  General,  heretofore  so 
urbane  and  pleasant,  was  now  abstracted  and 
troubled,  while  to  the  eye  of  an  outsider  it 
would  appear  that  any  attempt  at  conversation 
was  strained  and  irregular.  All  at  once  the 
click  of  horse-hoofs  coming  rapidly  toward  the 
house  was  heard  on  the  smooth  gravelled  road, 
and  immediately  Major  Herndon,  with  Lieu¬ 
tenant  Belden,  dashed  up  to  the  gate  and  dis¬ 
mounted,  agitation  and  excitement  showing  in 
their  faces.  The  next  moment  the  General  had 
received  a  message  that  caused  his  face  to  pale 
perceptibly,  and  rising  from  the  table  he 
abruptly  quitted  the  room.  But  the  next  mo¬ 
ment  he  was  back  again,  holding  a  conference 
with  his  wife  in  rapid,  low  tones,  then  hurried 
out  into  the  hall,  leaving  Mrs.  Borden  with  con- 


Adrienne 


129 


sternation  on  her  features.  She  moved  slowly 
toward  Adrienne,  and  said  in  almost  a  whisper, 

“Child,  I  have  the  greatest  news  to  tell  you. 
The  Federal  battleships  are  now  standing  oppo¬ 
site  the  fort.  An  engagement  will  ensue  at 
once.  General  Borden  has  warned  me  to  leave 
with  as  much  despatch  as  possible.  Surely, 
Mrs.  Willesly  will  raise  no  objection  to  retir¬ 
ing  with  us  under  the  protection  of  our  soldiers 
as  they  fall  back  to  prepare  for  an  attack  on 
land.” 

But  when  Mrs.  Willesly  promptly  but  kindly 
declined  the  offer  of  refuge  under  the  Confed¬ 
erate  wing,  Mrs.  Borden  was  indeed  taken 
aback. 

“In  the  event  of  battle,  Mrs.  Willesly,”  said 
she,  “what  protection  can  you  render  your 
family  or  property?” 

“I  am  sure  I  cannot  foresee  what  is  about  to 
happen,  but  I  have  determined  to  remain  in 
my  home,  whatever  may  be  the  peril  of  so  do¬ 
ing,”  was  the  decided  answer. 

“Certainly  you  have  not  thought  it  wise  to 
keep  Adrienne  with  you?” 

“Really,  Adrienne,  now  since  I  think  of  it,  I 
cannot  allow  you  to  remain.  You  must  go  with 
Mrs.  Borden.  It  is  the  only  thing  you  can  do.”* 

The  girl  was  standing  with  her  back  to  them, 
looking  from  the  window  out  on  the  sunlit 
lawn,  but  turned  and  crossed  over  to  Mrs.  Bor- 


130 


Adrienne 


den,  and  taking  her  hand  in  her  own  with  a 
warm  friendly  pressure,  she  said  earnestly, 

“Believe  me,  Mrs.  Borden,  I  value  your 
kindness  more  highly  than  I  can  say,  but  I  can¬ 
not  think  of  saving  myself,  thus  leaving  my 
friend  alone,  and  suffering  as  she  is  at  this  mo¬ 
ment.  You  must  know  such  an  act  on  my  part 
is  simply  out  of  the  question.” 

“Adrienne,  I  devoutly  pray  you  may  not  have 
cause  to  repent  of  your  decision.  But  I  no 
longer  have  time  to  plead  with  you.  I  will  say 
good-by,  Mrs.  Willesly,  breathing  a  heartfelt 
prayer  for  the  safety  of  your  little  family,  and 
that  your  lovely  home  may  not  meet  with  any 
disaster.” 

Mrs.  Borden  hurried  away,  to  find  Rosine 
had  not  been  idle  in  her  absence,  but  had 
gathered  together  everything  in  readiness  to 
start  at  quick  notice. 

Lieutenant  Belden  was  infinitely  shocked  at 
Adrienne’s  resolution,  and  had  started  to  seek 
her,  with  the  intention  of  persuading  her  to 
change  her  mind,  even  at  the  eleventh  hour, 
and  join  them,  when  a  sudden  summons  from 
his  General  forestalled  the  movement.  But  as 
he  hastened  forward  to  obey  the  mandate  of  his 
superior  officer,  he  found  time  as  he  passed 
through  the  hall,  to  say  to  Adrienne, 

“It  is  not  ‘good-by,’  Miss  de  Courcelles;  I 
will  not  have  it  so,  but  will  hurry  back  as  soon 


Adrienne 


131 


as  the  battle  is  over  to  assure  myself  of  your 
safety.” 

He  wrung  her  hand,  and  hurried  on,  just 
as  Mrs.  Borden  came  up,  with  solemn  face  and 
her  eyes  wet  with  tears.  Drawing  the  girl 
affectionately  into  her  arms  and  kissing  her 
tenderly,  she  said, 

“I  cannot  bear  to  leave  you  in  this  way, 
Adrienne,  for  I  am  afraid  you  have  made  an 
unwise  decision.” 

At  parting  Adrienne’s  eyes  expressed  a 
boundless  look  of  sadness  as  they  smiled  a  mel¬ 
ancholy  farewell.  And  presently,  as  she  heard 
the  ambulance  lumber  out  of  the  lawn,  she  knew 
they  were  now  left  to  the  mercy  of  circum¬ 
stances,  and  felt  all  the  more  desolate  after  hav¬ 
ing  had  the  protection  of  soldiers  so  gallant  and 
chivalrous.  But  seeing  the  emergency,  Mrs. 
Willesly  and  Adrienne  set  to  work  by  a  strong 
effort  to  fortify  themselves  in  the  determina¬ 
tion  to  brave  all  before  them  unflinchingly. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


At  'high  noon  on  the  same  day,  Mrs.  Willesly 
and  Adrienne,  restless  and  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  to  do,  had  settled  themselves  in  chairs  on 
the  veranda  and  were  discussing  their  now 
serious  situation,  when  Dr.  Harding,  the  family 
physician,  galloped  up  to  the  gate,  calling  out 
in  tones  of  evident  excitement  and  agitation, 

“I  do  not  wish  to  be  an  alarmist,  Madam, 
but  thought  it  my  duty  to  let  you  know  that  the 
Federals  are  preparing  to  leave  the  boats.  A 
battle  will  soon  be  in  progress.  But,  should 
the  action  bear  more  in  the  direction  of 
Champion  Hill,  you  will  escape  the  thickest 
of  the  engagement.  However,  stragglers  from 
both  armies  are  more  to  be  dreaded  than  any¬ 
thing.” 

“I  thank  you,  Doctor,  ”  Mrs.  Willesly 
answered,  “for  your  kindness  and  trouble.  I 
am  beginning  to  realize  how  foolish  and  reck¬ 
less  I  have  been  in  refusing  Mrs.  Borden’s  re¬ 
peated  offer  of  protection  under  the  Confed¬ 
erate  wing.  But  I  could  not  decide  to  desert 
my  home  in  cold  blood.” 

“If  you  will  pardon  the  expression  of  an  old 
friend,  Madam,  I  must  say  that  you  have  been 


Adrienne 


133 


exceedingly  unwise  in  refusing  so  generous  an 
invitation.” 

“I  am  satisfied  of  that  fact,  Doctor.  But, 
oh !”  and  she  now  buried  her  face  in  her  hands 
in  excessive  pain,  the  next  moment  lifting  her 
head,  showing  features  drawn  and  white,  as 
she  called  out,  “Doctor,  will  you  kindly  come 
and  see  what  is  the  cause  of  this  excruciating 
pain  I  am  suffering?” 

“With  pleasure,  Madam.  I  am  positive  the 
pain  proceeds  from  a  defective  tooth.  I  shall 
gladly  do  all  I  can  to  relieve  you,  but  will  warn 
you  that  it  must  be  drawn.  I  must  be  quick, 
as  we  are  too  dangerously  near  the  enemy  to 
admit  of  any  loitering  on  the  road.”  In  the 
mean  time,  the  Doctor  had  reached  the  ver¬ 
anda.  Ferriby,  having  dexterously  rolled  out  a 
large  arm-chair  on  the  southwest  side  of  the 
veranda,  Mrs.  Willesly  at  once  seated  herself, 
bracing  her  nerves  against  a  severe  physical 
shock.  The  Doctor  proceeded  to  examine,  with 
professional  skill,  the  afflicted  member,  when 
simultaneously  with  the  application  of  the  in¬ 
strument  they  were  rooted  to  the  spot  by  a  deaf¬ 
ening  roar  and  a  blinding  light  overhead.  A 
terrific  explosion  shook  the  earth.  Ferriby, 
bounding  like  a  cat  into  the  air,  gave  vent  to 
an  ear-splitting  shriek.  Dr.  Harding  now  stood 
in  the  posture  of  paralyzed  astonishment  as  he 
held  the  reeking  instrument  at  arm's  length. 


134 


Adrienne 


The  children  were  sobbing,  frantic  with  fright, 
while  Adrienne  stood  with  her  face  buried  in 
her  hands,  and  Mrs.  Willesly  clung  to  the  arms 
of  the  chair,  shaking  in  every  limb. 

“Doctor,”  she  called  in  trembling  tones, 
“have  you  really  drawn  my  tooth?” 

But  another  deafening  explosion  and  blind¬ 
ing  light  put  a  stop  to  their  breath  a  second. 
Speech,  thought,  and  understanding  seemed  to 
have  forsaken  the  little  group.  Ferriby,  with 
chattering  teeth,  stood  trembling,  her  eyes 
stretched  wild,  while  her  skin  had  turned  an 
ashy  hue.  The  Doctor,  drawing  long  breaths 
of  violent  perturbations,  looked  round  him  half- 
dazed.  But  suddenly  huddling  together  his 
belongings  he  found  enough  power  of  speech  at 
last  to  express  his  “regrets”  to  Mrs.  Willesly — 
though  not  in  his  natural  voice — at  being 
forced  to  leave  them  so  unceremoniously,  and 
striking  out  for  his  horse,  the  next  moment  was 
flying  like  the  wind  down  the  road,  intent  upon 
putting  as  long  a  distance  between  himself  and 
the  Union  army  as  possible. 

Mrs.  Willesly  and  Adrienne  could  but  resign 
themselves  to  what  was  to  follow.  Pale,  silent, 
and  agitated,  they  moved  from  place  to  place, 
knowing  there  was  nothing  but  danger  ahead 
of  them,  and  during  the  entire  day  they  were 
continually  terrorized  by  the  excessive  can¬ 
nonading  and  bursting  shells. 


CHAPTER  XVII 


The  night  of  terror  and  suspense  came  to 
an  end.  Their  eyes  opened  upon  a  serene  and 
lovely  morning — upon  a  summer  landscape 
radiant  in  its  beauty.  The  blur  of  smoke  had 
disappeared  from  the  deep  blue  vault  of  heaven, 
which  was  now  clear  and  brilliant.  Adrienne 
looked  out  upon  the  sparkling  sunshine,  re¬ 
joicing  in  the  depths  of  her  grateful  soul  to  be 
alive.  Lying  on  a  leather  lounge  in  the  hall, 
where  she  had  thrown  herself  almost  in  utter 
exhaustion,  Mrs.  Willesly  was  breathing  thank¬ 
fully  the  balmy  air  sweeping  through  from  the 
open  doors,  as  she  drew  a  long,  deep  sigh  of 
relief,  and  moved  her  lips  in  silent  thanksgiv¬ 
ing  to  have  been  spared  to  see  a  new  day. 

But  presently  she  rose  to  her  feet  and  ven¬ 
tured  into  the  kitchen,  to  find  Augie  at  her 
usual  post,  setting  about  preparations  for  break¬ 
fast. 

“Angie,”  and  there  seemed  to  be  almost  a 
hush  in  her  voice  as  she  spoke,  “we  are  quite 
faint  from  the  effects  of  our  long  fast.  Give 
us  a  wholesome  breakfast  this  morning.” 


136 


Adrienne 


“Yes,  Miss  Helen,  I  will  ’deavor  to  do  so, 
’ka’se  you  is  lookin’  powerful  starved,  an’  white 
in  de  face.” 

“And  our  troubles  are  not  over  yet,  Augie. 
How  reckless  of  me  to  have  refused  Mrs.  Bor¬ 
den’s  kind  offer  to  take  us  with  her.  It  is  true, 
I  should  have  deserted  my  home,  but  what  is 
anything  in  comparison  to  the  dreadful  danger 
to  which  we  are  now  hourly  exposed?”  She 
unconsciously  wrung  her  hands  as  the  tears 
trickled  down  her  cheeks. 

“Now,  Miss  Helen,  you  mus’n’t  take  on  so, 
honey.  Mebbe  times  ain’t  bad  as  dey  look.” 

“Alas,  I  can’t  help  thinking  our  country  has 
come  to  a  pretty  pass.”  And  now  dropping  her 
hands  disconsolately  at  her  side,  Mrs.  Willesly 
walked  slowly  away,  leaving  Augie  standing 
with  arms  akimbo,  shaking  vigorously  her  tur- 
baned  head  as  she  looked  after  her  Miss  Helen 
and  ruminated  over  the  condition  of  things. 
But  however  concerned  and  perplexed  Augie 
may  have  felt  on  account  of  the  state  of  her 
Miss  Helen’s  mind,  the  breakfast  was  soon 
smoking  upon  the  table,  daintily  and  deliciously 
prepared. 

Just  as  the  little  family  had  finished  the  so 
much  needed  repast,  a  loud  cry  from  Ferriby, 
who  burst  in  upon  them,  “De  Yankees,  de 
Yankees,  Miss  Helen!”  so  startled  them,  that 
knives  and  forks  were  dropped  on  the  table 


Adrienne 


137 


without  ceremony,  as  hastily  rising*  from  their 
seats  they  rushed  out  on  the  veranda  to  find, 
sure  enough,  the  lawn  overrun  with  Federal 
soldiers.  At  sight  of  them,  Mrs.  Willesly’s 
wits  suspended  action  a  moment,  but  soon 
managing  to  rally,  she  went  forward  with  as 
bold  face  as  possible,  timorously  addressing  the 
officer,  who  stood  near  with  his  back  turned  to 
them,  her  voice  trembling  in  spite  of  the  effort 
made  at  self-control. 

“Will  you  kindly  tell  me  the  meaning  of 
this?” 

He  turned  at  once,  lifting  his  cap  politely, 
saying, . 

“I  will  assure  Madam  that  she  need  feel  no 
uneasiness  on  our  account.  We  have  but 
stopped  by  to  water  our  jaded  horses  at  your 
pond,  on  our  way  to  headquarters.” 

“Whose  headquarters,  may  I  ask?” 

“General  Grant’s,  Madam.” 

“Will  there  be  a  battle?” 

“Our  command  is  now  preparing  to  fall  in 
line.” 

Her  face  perceptibly  paled  at  this,  but  she 
eagerly  ventured  again — 

“Shall  my  residence  be  in  danger?” 

“I  can  give  you  no  assurance  to  the  con¬ 
trary,  Madam.  One  can  never  foresee  the 
result  of  battle.” 


138 


Adrienne 


But,  confused  as  her  brain  now  felt,  Mrs. 
Willesly  fully  grasped  the  situation,  and  run¬ 
ning  a  thought  quickly  over  in  her  mind,  at 
once  settled  on  a  plan. 

“Will  it  be  asking  too  much  of  you  to  de¬ 
liver  a  written  message  from  myself  to  General 
Grant?” 

The  officer  eyed  her  with  curiosity  a  moment, 
then  rather  abruptly  answered, 

“I  must  warn  you,  Madam,  that  he  may  not 
have  time  to  read  or  reply.  Nevertheless,  I 
will  take  your  message  at  your  request.” 

“Oh,  thank  you,”  and  with  trembling  heart 
she  vanished  into  the  house.  After  the  lapse 
of  a  few  moments  she  was  on  the  spot  again 
with  a  sealed  envelope  in  her  hand,  which  she 
eagerly  thrust  into  the  officer’s  keeping,  who 
rode  away  almost  immediately,  followed  by  his 
tired  men.  Then  turning  to  Adrienne,  who 
had  been  a  silent  witness  to  this  dialogue,  Mrs. 
Willesly  said  in  anxious  tones, 

“I  scarcely  think  General  Grant  will  refuse 
my  earnest  appeal  for  protection  in  our  sore 
need.” 

“Have  you  requested  a  special  detachment  of 
Union  soldiers  to  guard  your  castle  in  the  hour 
of  great  danger?”  said  Adrienne,  a  little  glint 
of  derision  in  her  eyes. 


Adrienne 


139 


“Surely,”  was  the  answer,  a  little  surprised 
at  the  girl’s  tone.  “You  approve  of  what  I  have 
done?” 

“Approve?  Most  certainly — in  this  crisis. 
But,  Mrs.  Willesly,  I  would  prepare  you  for 
the  answer,  not  at  all  consistent  with  the  ap¬ 
peal.”  And  not  feeling  in  the  humor  for  dis¬ 
cussing  the  matter  at  length,  Adrienne  walked 
away. 

But,  greatly  to  her  surprise,  and  Mrs.  Wil- 
lesly’s  relief,  the  answer  came  in  two  hours’ 
time,  which  Mrs.  Willesly  read  aloud  to 
Adrienne,  her  hands  quivering  so  that  the  paper 
shook. 

“Dear  Madam : 

“In  response  to  your  appeal  to  me  In  this 
emergency,  I  will  say,  that  in  the  stress  of  the 
hour  I  have  only  time  to  assure  you  that  I  have 
nothing  to  offer  you  in  the  way  of  refuge,  save 
the  protection  of  our  boats.  Should  you  con¬ 
clude  to  retire  to  them  the  privilege  is  yours. 

“Yours  truly, 

“U.  S.  Grant.” 

Mrs.  Willesly  sat  unconsciously  twisting  the 
note  between  her  fingers,  thinking  profoundly, 
while  a  shade  of  disappointment  and  worry  had 
fallen  over  her  face.  Presently  raising  her 
eyes  to  Adrienne,  she  said  mournfully, 


140 


Adrienne 


“I  am  sure  it  is  not  at  all  clear  to  me,  as  to 
what  I  did  expect.  Not  this ,  certainly.  Yet,” 
and  she  sighed  deeply,  “surrounded  as  we  are 
on  all  sides  by  the  enemy,  and  completely  cut 
off  from  retreat  among  friends,  what  else  is 
there  to  do  but  accept  the  only  offer  of  assist¬ 
ance  open  to  one  ?” 

“Surely,  Mrs.  Willesly!”  Adrienne  ex¬ 
claimed  with  a  mutinous  look  in  her  eyes,  “you 
are  not  contemplating  a  retreat  to  the  gun¬ 
boats  ?” 

“Why  not  ?  As  whistling  bullets  are  not  in 
the  least  to  my  fancy,  nor  in  my  line  of  duty 
to  face,  I  shall  proceed  to  hunt  a  place  of  safety 
with  as  little  loss  of  time  as  possible.  For,  in 
our  present  condition,  every  hour  is  precious.” 

A  moment  of  silence  followed,  in  which  it 
needed  no  inspiration  to  convince  Adrienne 
that  it  would  be  unwise,  in  her  present  posi¬ 
tion,  stubbornly  to  oppose  Mrs.  Willesly ’s  judg¬ 
ment  and  authority.  Prudently  maintaining  a 
smoothness  of  manner,  she  resignedly  set  to 
work  making  preparations  for  a  speedy  de¬ 
parture. 

Desperate  at  thought  of  being  hemmed  in 
between  two  armies  in  hostile  positions,  ex¬ 
posed  to  the  din  and  carnage  of  the  conflict, 
Mrs.  Willesly  gave  herself  no  time  to  think  of 
the  gravity  of  the  move  she  was  about  to  make, 
but  at  once  ordered  their  baggage  placed  in  a 


Adrienne 


141 


spring  wagon  and  wheeled  off  to  the  river. 
Shortly  after,  with  Adrienne,  the  children, 
and  Ferriby  close  behind,  they  filed  out  to 
the  waiting  carriage  in  solemn  procession,  en¬ 
countering  on  the  way  Augie  and  Aunt  Polly, 
who  had  stationed  themselves  near,  and  were 
now  weeping,  no  doubt  with  sincere  devotion 
for  their  mistress. 

“Look  here,  Miss  Helen,  is  you  air  de  young 
Mistis  took  prisoners  ?”  whispered  Aunt  Polly. 
“My  po’  ole  heart  is  sho’  akin’  to  see  you  leavin’ 
home  in  dis  fashion.” 

“We  are  not  prisoners,  Aunt  Polly.  But  we 
are  going — ”  she  hesitated  between  a  sob  and 
a  sigh — “because — we  don’t  know  what  else 
we  can  do.  Meantime,  Aunt  Polly,  while  I  am 
gone  you  will  overlook  the  place  for  me  and 
look  after  yourselves.  You  can  have  the  pro¬ 
visions  in  the  smoke-house  and  anything  else 
you  may  need.  Good-by.”  She  could  say  no 
more,  but  received  a  hearty  pledge  from  her 
faithful  servants  that  on  her  return  she  would 
find  them  at  their  post,  true  to  the  trust  she  had 
placed  in  them. 

The  carriage  drove  off,  the  soldier  who  had 
brought  the  message  from  General  Grant,  as 
envoy. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


The  journey  to  the  river  was  sad  and  dismal, 
of  which  Mrs.  Willesly  gave  expression  by  a 
copious  shower  of  tears  behind  her  veil. 
Adrienne,  on  the  other  hand,  did  not  shed  a 
tear,  nor  did  she  speak  a  single  word,  but  sat 
silently  brooding  over  the  fact  that  as  they  pro¬ 
gressed  on  the  road  there  had  been  no  sign  of 
either  Federal  or  Confederate  soldiers.  Con¬ 
vinced  the  Confederates  had  fallen  back  and 
that  General  Grant  was  in  hot  pursuit,  a  flood 
of  dread  and  distress  surged  through  the  girl’s 
soul,  while,  at  thought  of  what  the  conse¬ 
quences  might  be,  she  scarcely  restrained  her 
tears. 

The  carriage  now  reaching  the  edge  of  the 
woodland  overlooking  the  river,  the  huge  bat¬ 
tle-ships  lying  out  in  bold  relief  on  the  water, 
coming  into  full  view,  struck  dismay  to  their 
hearts.  And  presently,  as  they  waded  deeper 
into  difficulties,  upon  beholding  the  interior  of 
one  of  these  gigantic  floating  arsenals,  they 
were  all  the  more  struck  with  shivering  dread 
at  thus  being  consigned  to  impregnable  walls  of 
iron,  seemingly  in  their  helpless  condition 
truly  a  prison-house.  The  occasion  demanded 


Adrienne 


143 


a  wonderful  amount  of  courage  and  heroism 
to  withstand  the  hopeless  outlook  ahead  of 
them. 

Adrienne  sank  upon  the  nearest  seat  in  the 
cabin,  giving  herself  up,  for  the  moment,  to  an 
irresistible  melancholy,  wistfully  bending-  her 
eyes  before  her — a  suspicion  of  tears  on  their 
lashes — praying  in  her  heart  that  the  light  of 
hope  might  break  in  upon  her  soul  and  release 
her  of  this  horrible  dread  of  danger.  The 
entire  little  circle,  now  sitting  round  in  stiff 
chairs,  betrayed  an  unnatural  calm,  by  no  means 
resembling  the  serene  quiet  that  usually  hovered 
over  their  peaceful  fireside  at  home.  A  little 
over  the  way  the  sable  Ferriby,  having  stationed 
herself  beside  the  children,  presented  a  picture 
of  big-eyed  curiosity,  now  starting  at  every 
sound.  But  as  night  came  on,  tired  nature  suc¬ 
cumbed  to  the  much-needed  rest.  Adrienne, 
for  a  while  at  least,  was  oblivious  to  harrowing 
doubt  and  anxious  care.  However,  upon  wak¬ 
ing,  she  was  more  alive  than  ever  to  the  un¬ 
certainty  of  their  condition,  while  her  thoughts 
constantly  reverted  to  Colonel  Strafford,  whom 
she  felt  certain  was  hourly  exposed  to  danger 
and  death.  She  little  dreamed  that  during  the 
night,  as  he  was  crossing  the  river  from  the 
Louisiana  side  in  a  narrow  punt,  he  came  so 
near  the  ship  in  which  she  lay  sweetly  slumber¬ 
ing,  that  reaching  out  he  could  have  touched 


144 


Adrienne 


the  side  with  his  oar.  A  skilled  oarsman  from 
his  English  training,  by  dexterous  sweeps  he 
skimmed  over  the  water,  soon  bringing  the 
prow  of  his  boat  safely  to  land  under  the  shades 
of  night,  so  making  good  his  escape  that, 
shortly  after,  he  reached  Richmond  with  his 
mission  satisfactorily  accomplished. 

But  the  moments  lengthened  into  hours — 
hours  into  days,  and  as  yet  General  Grant  had 
not  appeared  on  the  scene.  In  the  mean  while, 
with  the  passing  on  of  time,  Mrs.  Willesly, 
having  grown  restless,  her  daily  vocation  had 
become  a  ceaseless  promenade  to  and  fro,  keep¬ 
ing  it  up  with  unabated  energy. 

Once  as  she  was  passing  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Adrienne,  she  suddenly  paused  and  said,  with 
manifest  irritation, 

“Do  you  know,  Adrienne,  that  if  I  had  not 
seen  with  my  own  eyes  the  pallor  on  your  face, 
and  quiver  on  your  lips,  I  should  have  con¬ 
cluded  long  since  that  you  are  flinty  in  your 
nature.  For  my  part,  if  this  state  of  things 
keeps  up  much  longer  I  shall  cry  out  in  sheer 
despair.  Our  situation  is  becoming  more  in¬ 
supportable  every  hour.  The  death  sentence 
hanging  over  us  at  home  has  been  commuted 
to  life  imprisonment  on  this  cruel  ship.  In  vul¬ 
gar  parlance,  we  have  but  jumped  out  of  the 
frying  pan  into  the  fire.” 


Adrienne 


145 


“Ah,”  said  Adrienne,  now  giving  way  to  a 
low,  musical  laugh,  though  Mrs.  Willesly 
observed  the  tears  in  her  eyes,  “I  must  confess 
that  ever  since  General  Grant's  ready  compli¬ 
ance  with  your  appeal  for  protection,  I  have 
been  stretched  upon  the  rack  of  devouring  curi¬ 
osity.  For  I  am  convinced  to  have  secured  so 
promptly  the  answer  to  your  petition,  you  must 
have  employed  a  more  potent  argument  than 
has  appeared  in  evidence.” 

“I  don’t  mind  acknowledging,  since  the  deed 
is  done,”  she  answered,  now  dropping  into  a 
confidential  attitude,  “that  I  called  into  effect 
no  mystic  influence,  nor  flattering  blandish¬ 
ments,  as  an  avenue  to  General  Grant’s  clem¬ 
ency;  but  merely  a  bold  statement  of  one 
student’s  attachment  for  the  other  in  the  days 
of  their  alma  mater,  which  bringing  the  be¬ 
nevolent  result,  proves  successfully  that  he  was 
inclined  to  hear  my  prayer  for  protection  in  the 
hour  of  our  great  need  and  danger.  I  will  con¬ 
fide  to  you,  Adrienne,  that  my  father  and  Gen¬ 
eral  Grant  were  classmates  at  college,  closely 
linked  together  by  an  indissoluble  bond  of 
friendship.” 


CHAPTER  XIX 


The  morning  following  this  conversation, 
Adrienne  woke  wretchedly  depressed,  and  im¬ 
pressed  with  a  feeling  that  something  was 
about  to  befall  their  fortunes.  Anything  but 
blind  to  their  peril,  the  gravity  of  their  situa¬ 
tion  weighed  heavily  upon  her  spirits.  But 
upon  making  a  tardy  appearance  among  her 
fellow-sufferers,  she  was  greeted  by  the  unex¬ 
pected  news  that  the  ship  was  now  lying  off 
from  Vicksburg,  which  filled  her  mind  with 
dire  perplexity  and  gave  her  heart  uneasy 
throbs  as  she  sat  down  to  shape  her  thoughts 
into  some  reasonable  conclusion.  Presently  the 
approach  of  footsteps  roused  her  from  her  sober 
reflections,  and  drew  her  from  her  drooping 
posture,  and  raising  her  eyes,  they  fell  on  an 
officer,  tired  and  travel-worn,  whose  reserved 
mien  bespoke  his  identity.  Coming  slowly  on 
he  paused  before  Mrs.  Willesly,  and  bowed,  as 
he  said,  with  a  weary  smile, 

“Have  I  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Mrs.  Wil¬ 
lesly,  my  late  correspondent?” 

“I  am  indeed  glad  to  see  you,  General  Grant,” 
was  the  alert,  cheerful  reply ;  “while  you  cannot 


Adrienne 


147 


understand  the  genuine  relief  your  presence 
brings  with  it.” 

“And  you  are  the  daughter  of  my  old  school¬ 
fellow,  Charles  Somers?”  he  asked  reflectively. 

“Your  name,  General  Grant,  from  my  youth 
up,  has  been  as  familiar  as  household  words.” 

“Ah,”  said  he,  and  there  was  an  inflection 
of  honest  feeling  and  sympathy  in  his  voice, 
“Charles  Somers  was  a  noble,  whole-souled 
man,  and  a  loyal  friend.  Fate  has  willed  it  that, 
while  I  am  left  to  ‘do  battle  with  inexorable 
war,’  feeling  that  it  is  well  we  are  not  standing 
on  opposite  ground,  he  has  entered  upon  his 
journey  in  the  happy  Beyond,  and  who  knows 
how  soon  I  may  join  him?” 

Noticing  the  General’s  eyes  had  wandered  to 
the  silent  girl  sitting  near,  Mrs.  Willesly  took 
advantage  of  the  first  lull  in  conversation  to 
say,  as  she  introduced  him  to  Adrienne, 

“My  young  friend  here,  General,  has  been 
detained  some  length  of  time,  waiting  an  oppor¬ 
tunity  to  go  to  her  grandfather,  who  resides  on 
the  Potomac  in  Virginia.” 

The  General  seemed  to  be  thinking  deeply  as 
he  sat  observing  the  beauty  of  the  girl’s  sad  face, 
while  he  made  no  direct  reply  to  Mrs.  Willesly. 
But  presently,  his  face  lighting  up  with  a  smile, 
he  said, 

“Ladies,  I  shall  now  propose  a  remedy  for 
your  present  unfortunate  position,  in  so  far  as 


148 


Adrienne 


it  may  rest  in  my  power  to  accomplish  it.  In  an 
hour’s  time  a  steamer,  now  ready  to  start,  will 
leave  for  Memphis,  in  which  I  suggest  that  you 
shall  take  passage,  where  you  will  be  placed  in 
more  comfortable  quarters,  and  will  be  out  of 
the  range  of  danger.  Allow  me  to  suggest  that 
you  should  make  your  preparations  at  once,  as 
the  boat  will  be  here  shortly  that  will  transfer 
you  in  safety  from  the  ship  to  the  packet.  Miss 
de  Courcelles,”  now  turning  and  smiling 
pleasantly  down  upon  the  girl,  which  suddenly 
dispelled  the  gathering  tears  in  her  eyes  and  the 
gnawing  anxiety  at  her  heart,  “I  must  say,  from 
the  fact  that  I  have  a  daughter  of  my  own,  your 
position  appeals  to  me;  therefore,  I  shall  keep 
you  in  mind,  and  arrange  as  early  as  possible 
to  place  you  on  the  road  so  that  you  may  reach 
your  grandfather  without  difficulty.  Though 
it  would  be  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  the  cam¬ 
paign  in  Virginia  is  one  of  continuous  action, 
and  growing  more  heated  every  day.”  The 
General  moved  toward  Mrs.  Willesly,  holding 
out  his  hand  and  saying, 

“Though  we  have  met  under  peculiar  circum¬ 
stances,  Mrs.  Willesly,  I  wish  to  assure  you  of 
the  pleasure  it  has  afforded  me  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  the  daughter  of  my  old  school¬ 
fellow  and  friend  Charles  Somers.  Allow  me 
to  express  my  sincere  regret  at  the  untoward 
position  in  which  you  have  been  placed  by  the 


Adrienne 


149 


fortunes  of  war.  I  hope  soon  to  be  able  to  send 
you  safely  back  to  your  homes.”  And  with  a 
cordial  good-by  to  each  of  the  ladies,  General 
Grant,  under  the  relentless  call  and  pressure  of 
business,  hurried  away. 

An  hour  later  they  were  skimming  over  the 
quiet  flowing  water  in  the  open  sunshine.  The 
morning  was  so  clear  and  splendid  the  gloom 
lifted  from  Adrienne’s  heart,  in  spite  of  the 
terror  through  which  she  had  passed.  Her 
heart  now  swelling  with  thanksgiving  at  their 
sudden  and  miraculous  escape  from  the  monster 
gunboat,  she  was  simply  beside  herself  with  joy. 

Mrs.  Willesly,  on  the  other  hand,  now  sitting 
in  the  boat,  with  bowed  head,  gazing  into  the 
mirror-like  surface  of  the  water  while  her  tears 
unconsciously  mingled  with  the  passing  ripples, 
seemed  to  have  settled  into  a  silent  melancholy. 
When,  all  at  once,  glancing  up  and  encounter¬ 
ing  the  girl’s  grave,  sympathetic  eyes  resting 
upon  her,  she  repeated, 

“  ‘Regrets !’  can  regrets,  Adrienne,  restore 
to  me  my  home — which  I  know  has  been  sacri¬ 
ficed — with  its  crowded  associations  of  a  happy 
past?  I  am  convinced  by  the  unhappy  experi¬ 
ence  through  which  we  have  passed,  Adrienne, 
that  it  is  indeed  vain  to  put  one’s  trust  in  any¬ 
thing  in  this  transitory  world,  one  is  so  suddenly 
and  rudely  sent  adrift.” 


150 


Adrienne 


“Why  take  such  a  gloomy  view  of  the  mat¬ 
ter?  Have  we  not  cause  to  rejoice  that  we  are 
now  breathing  the  free  air  of  heaven  ?”  And 
turning  her  face  toward  Vicksburg,  now  stand¬ 
ing  out  in  clear  relief  in  the  shimmering  morn¬ 
ing  sunshine,  the  girl  continued,  with  a  little 
tremulous  catch  in  her  voice,  “I  am  sure, 
even  though  we  are  still  in  the  toils  of  the 
enemy,  we  would  not  care  to  exchange  places 
with  the  inhabitants  of  that  city,  whose  sor¬ 
rows  are  just  begun.  The  sufferings  in 
store  for  them  will  yet  enlist  oerhaps  every 
compassionate  throb  of  our  hearts.” 

As  the  steamer  presently  swung  out  in  mid 
stream,  heading  for  Memphis,  Mrs.  Willesly 
and  Adrienne  felt  that  the  sudden  transition 
from  the  barriers  of  a  stupendous  iron-clad  bat¬ 
tle-ship  to  the  sunny,  airy  quarters  of  a  Missis¬ 
sippi  River  floating  palace  was  a  matter  over 
which  there  was  call  for  earnest  gratitude  and 
self-gratulation. 


CHAPTER  XX 


“Adrienne,”  cried  Mrs.  Wlllesly,  suddenly 
entering  the  girl’s  room  one  morning  in  Mem¬ 
phis,  where  they  were  putting  up  at  a  popular 
hotel,  “do  you  know  that  after  you  left  the  table 
just  now  I  chanced  to  overhear  those  officers, 
who  sit  near  us  at  table,  discussing  the  siege 
which,  it  seems,  is  now  in  progress  at  Vicks¬ 
burg,  and  was  so  overcome  at  the  news,  that 
unable  to  control  my  emotion,  tears  ran  down 
my  cheeks,  dropping  like  great  white  beads  into 
my  lap.  But  observing  my  agitation  they  im¬ 
mediately  changed  the  subject.  Nevertheless, 
the  unhappy  fact  remains,  of  which  I  have  hur¬ 
ried  up  here  to  let  you  know.” 

“We  are  entirely  helpless  in  the  matter,  Mrs. 
Willesly,  and  can  only  appeal  to  our  stock  of 
resolution  to  be  patient  in  waiting,  and  ever 
maintain  an  unbroken  faith  in  the  One  who  has 
promised  succor  in  the  hour  of  danger  and  dis¬ 
tress.”  Adrienne  was  standing  before  a  mir¬ 
ror,  carefully  arranging  a  veil  over  her  hat  and 
face,  preparatory  to  going  into  the  street. 

“Seeing  you  veiling  yourself  so  carefully, 
Adrienne,  reminds  me  that  we  are  manifestly 


152 


Adrienne 


objects  of  curiosity  to  the  officers  in  this  hotel, 
however  much  they  strive  against  staring 
rudely.” 

“But  as  yet,”  the  girl  answered,  smiling 
brightly,  “we  have  no  cause  for  resentment. 
And  now,  try  and  rouse  yourself  from  this 
semi-stupor,  and  watch  eagerly  for  an  early  de¬ 
liverance  from  our  troubles  and  difficulties. 
Perhaps  our  release  is  nearer  than  we  have  any 
idea.  Good-by  for  the  present.  I  will  soon  be 
back,  and  hope  to  find  you,  on  my  return,  with 
your  usual  spirits  restored.”  Nodding  brightly, 
Adrienne  left  the  room,  starting  out  on  the 
perplexing  mission  of  having  a  dress  fitted,  a 
traveling  outfit  of  a  subdued,  lovely  shade  of 
gray,  in  exchange  for  the  somberness  of  her 
mourning  garb,  of  which  she  had  lately  grown 
excessively  weary. 

Upon  her  passages  through  the  lobby  of  the 
hotel,  Adrienne  had  frequently  noticed  an 
officer,  who  invariably  occupied  the  same  posi¬ 
tion,  engrossed  in  the  morning  paper.  His 
eyes,  as  she  moved  gracefully  on  her  way, 
never  failed  to  dwell  upon  her  with  unconscious 
admiration.  This  morning  in  particular,  find¬ 
ing  the  aisle  obstructed  by  luggage,  she  was 
forced  nearer  the  officer,  whose  “pardon  me,” 
as  he  rose  to  let  her  pass,  drew  a  hurried  glance 
from  the  girl’s  dark  eyes  up  into  his.  She  was 
struck  by  something  familiar — something  in 


Adrienne 


153 


his  accent  and  bearing  that  unmistakably  de¬ 
noted  the  high-bred  Englishman. 

At  length  the  catastrophe  of  the  fall  of  Vicks¬ 
burg  was  known  by  the  jollity  of  the  officers  in 
the  hotel  over  the  great  Federal  victory.  Mrs. 
Willesly,  with  sinking  heart,  poured  forth  her 
sorrow  in  rivers  of  tears.  None  the  less  over¬ 
whelmed  at  the  depressing  fall  that  seemed  to 
over-shadow  the  destiny  of  the  South,  Adrienne 
gave  expression  of  her  sorrow  and  distress 
alone  by  a  silence  eloquent  in  its  sadness  and 
mournful  regret.  This  disaster  in  the  fortunes 
of  the  Confederate  cause  left  in  its  wake  in  their 
hearts  a  dull  apathy.  Indeed,  soon  they  began 
dimly  to  realize,  with  fear  and  dismay,  that  the 
chain  of  oppression  was  already  forged  that 
would  fasten  the  South  upon  the  pages  of  his¬ 
tory  a  victim  to  overwhelming  numbers. 

Sitting  alone  in  her  room  one  morning, 
Adrienne  was  suddenly  roused  by  a  quick  tap 
at  the  door,  and  a  servant  entered,  presenting 
a  card  upon  which  was  the  name,  “E.  Havelock, 
Lieutenant,  U.  S.  A.,”  with  the  accompanying 
request  to  see  Miss  de  Courcelles  in  the  parlor 
a  moment  on  business. 

She  rose,  and  walked  in  a  kind  of  dream  to 
the  parlor.  The  unknown  officer,  rising  and 
bowing  at  her  entrance,  her  surprise  was  com¬ 
plete,  while  he  scarcely  veiled  the  admiration 
elicited  by  her  loveliness. 


154 


Adrienne 


“Miss  de  Courcelles,  I  suppose  ?” 

A  graceful  bend  of  the  head  was  her  only 
answer.  As  they  seated  themselves,  he  went  on 
to  say, 

“I  have  been  authorized  to  inform  you  that 
I  am  commissioned  by  General  Grant  to  escort 
you  under  a  flag  of  truce  into  the  Confederate 
lines,  and  there  place  you  on  the  road  far 
enough  to  reach  your  friends  in  Virginia  in 
safety — without  any  fear  of  molestation  or 
difficulty.” 

Evidently  greatly  relieved,  as  well  as  over¬ 
joyed  at  this  piece  of  unexpected  good  news, 
she  replied  with  a  frank  smile, 

“Assuredly,  General  Grant  has  my  grateful 
acknowledgments  for  so  much  kindly  consid¬ 
eration  toward  one  who  is  an  entire  stranger.  I 
shall  always  remember  him  with  deepest  grati¬ 
tude.  But  I  am  sure  it  would  puzzle  older 
heads  than  my  own  to  know  how  to  dispose  of 
such  an  emergency.  However,  I  shall  act  ac¬ 
cording  to  what  I  deem  for  the  best,  and  trust 
all  will  go  well.”  She  rose  from  her  seat.  Ris¬ 
ing  also,  he  said  with  a  courtly  manner, 

“Will  Miss  de  Courcelles  allow  me  to  assure 
her  that,  though  she  is  at  present  in  the  hands 
of  the  hostile  section,  it  is  the  vow  of  knight¬ 
hood  to  protect  a  lady  in  distress.  I  would  sug- 


Adrienne 


155 


gest,  Miss  de  Courcelles,  that  the  uncertainty  of 
war  demands  that  we  should  leave  as  early  as 
possible.” 

“If  you  wish,  I  can  be  ready  for  the  early 
morning  train.” 

Bowing  acquiescence,  Lieutenant  Havelock 
withdrew,  simply  intoxicated  with  the  girl’s 
beauty  and  charm  of  manner,  never  having  seen 
her  before  without  the  protection  of  a  veil.  In 
the  early  morning  a  carriage  was  standing  at 
the  entrance  of  the  hotel,  when  presently 
Adrienne  made  her  appearance.  She  wore  a 
gray  traveling  dress,  with  hat  to  correspond, 
and  looked  so  charming  that  one  might  be 
pardoned  for  an  almost  rude  admiration.  The 
children  were  clinging  to  her  skirts,  and  the 
indispensable  Ferriby,  an  interested  party,  fol¬ 
lowed  closely  behind.  Preferring  not  to  make 
a  public  exhibition  of  her  tears,  Mrs.  Willesly 
parted  from  Adrienne  in  the  privacy  of  her  own 
room,  congratulating  herself  that  she  too  would 
take  her  departure  on  the  morrow  for  the  more 
congenial  atmosphere  of  her  native  New 
Orleans. 

Lieutenant  Havelock  was  promptly  on  time, 
and  the  next  moment  they  were  whirling  swift¬ 
ly  on  to  the  morning  train,  having  left  the 
children  on  the  side-walk  sobbing  out  their  sor¬ 
row  in  childish,  heart-broken  lamentations, 


156 


Adrienne 


Ferriby,  with  much  parade,  making  strenuous 
effort  to  quiet  their  distress. 

This  early  departure  had  not  escaped  the 
notice  of  several  officers  in  the  hotel,  who  gazed 
from  their  windows  down  upon  the  officer  and 
young  lady  as  they  entered  the  carriage  and 
were  driven  away.  And  certainly  they  could 
not  be  censured  for  the  little  impulse  of  envy 
that  assailed  them  toward  Lieutenant  Have¬ 
lock.  That  he  should  have  been  appointed  en¬ 
voy  to  so  lovely  a  creature  they  deemed  in  itself 
a  mark  of  distinction,  and  one  they  scarce  dared 
hope  would  fall  in  their  line  of  duty. 

Noting  that  the  whole  cast  of  Lieutenant 
Havelock’s  countenance  was  distinctly  pleasing, 
and  inviting  to  confidence,  was  of  infinite  relief 
to  the  girl  sitting  opposite  him.  He  conversed 
in  a  versatile,  entertaining  way,  seeking  unob¬ 
trusively  to  attend  to  her  few  wants.  Never¬ 
theless,  observing  that  he  invariably  alluded  to 
the  Southerners  as  “rebels,”  her  patience  finally 
arrived  at  a  limit,  as  presently  turning  to  him, 
she  said,  with  rising  color, 

“I  am  certain,  Lieutenant  Havelock,  by  your 
manner  of  expression — though  I  have  no  inten¬ 
tion  of  setting  you  right  in  the  matter — that  you 
are  laboring  under  the  weight  of  an  error  in 
regard  to  the  integral  workings  which  have  re¬ 
sulted  in  this  national  disaster.  I  will  do  you 
the  justice,  however,  to  say  that  perhaps  you 


Adrienne 


157 


have  joined  the  contest  against  the  South  in¬ 
flated  with  the  thrilling  sentiment  of  saving  the 
grand  American  Union,  while  the  majority 
have  been  carried  away  by  the  exhilarating  idea 
of  freeing  the  slaves.  Though  it  is  true  the 
South  is  in  no  way  responsible  for  the  origin  of 
the  institution,  it  is  but  just  to  concede  the  fact 
that  the  race,  under  discipline  and  control,  has 
made  rapid  advances  toward  Christian  civiliza¬ 
tion.” 

“I  am  satisfied,  Miss  de  Courcelles,  the  South 
is  sincere  in  maintaining  its  position,  though 
to  a  disinterested  onlooker  there  would  seem 
room  for  inquiry.  At  any  rate,  I  trust  the  diffi¬ 
culty  may  soon  be  adjusted.  While,  pardon  me, 
I  shall  make  a  little  confession.  I  have  arrayed 
myself  on  the  Federal  side  of  the  contest,  not 
through  any  rancor  toward  the  South,  but 
simply  for  adventure.  It  is  true,  the  enthusiasm 
of  friends,  with  whom  I  happened  to  be  visiting 
when  war  was  declared,  swayed  me  in  a  meas¬ 
ure.  I  joined  the  army  ostensibly  to  fight  for 
the  Union.” 

“Ah,  Lieutenant,  as  I  am  thoroughly  in  touch 
with  the  purity  and  authority  of  the  principles 
of  the  Southern  people,  I  can  assure  you  their 
fidelity  to  the  Union  has  ever  been  loyal  and 
unwavering,  but  their  attachment  was  for  the 
spirit  that  dominated  the  hearts  of  our  fore¬ 
fathers,  and  guided  them  in  formulating  and 


158 


Adrienne 


adopting  the  Constitution.  As  matters  stood 
between  the  North  and  South,  war  was  the 
inevitable  result.  For,  is  anything  so  mon¬ 
strous  as  a  country  compromising  its  principles 
by  yielding  unreservedly  to  the  dictation  of  the 
aggressor?  This,  had  it  comnlied  with  Mr. 
Lincoln’s  demand  of  unconditional  surrender, 
would  have  been  the  position  of  the  South.  His 
idea  of  restoration,  in  his  own  words,  was  the 
immediate  disbanding  of  the  Confederate 
armies,  allowing  the  National  authorities  to 
resume  their  functions.” 

“Apart  from  the  motive  to  which  I  have 
already  alluded,  Miss  de  Courcelles,  I  have 
taken  no  pains  to  delve  into  the  pros  and  cons  of 
the  matter.  But  of  this  fact  I  am  certain,  the 
Confederate  ranks  are  weakening  every  day. 
How  will  you  accept  utter  defeat?” 

Her  cheeks  suddenly  paled  as  she  answered  in 
solemn  tones, 

“It  will  indeed  be  a  crowning  sorrow !  A 
stricken  country,  by  conquest  of  overwhelming 
numbers,  does  not  indeed  settle  the  moral  right 
of  a  question.  A  principle  is  indestructible.” 


CHAPTER  XXI 


Having  succeeded  beyond  his  most  sanguine 
expectation  in  placing  his  charge  under  the  pro¬ 
tecting  wing  of  the  Confederate  authorities  at 
Chattanooga, — all  of  whom  received  her  with 
marked  courtesy,  expressing  ungrudgingly  a 
willingness  to  promote  her  interest  in  every 
way, — Lieutenant  Havelock  sought  Adrienne 
at  once  to  say  good-by,  and  found  her  sitting 
at  a  window  in  the  parlor  looking  down  on  the 
ceaseless  procession  of  passers  in  the  street.  She 
turned  at  once  as  she  saw  him  coming  forward 
with  a  look  of  thoughtful  gravity  on  his  face. 

“Miss  de  Courcelles,”  he  said,  his  tone  plain¬ 
ly  tinged  with  regret,  “I  have  come  to  say  my 
mission,  so  far  as  you  are  concerned,  is  at  an 
end.  But  now  that  I  must  leave  you,  I  wish  to 
assure  you  of  the  pleasure  our  little  tilts  in  con¬ 
versation  have  afforded  me.  My  prayer  is  for 
peace  throughout  the  United  States,  over  which 
must  float  victoriously  the  National  flag,  and 
that  we  may  soon  meet  again.” 

“Perhaps,  Lieutenant” — she  looked  at  him 
with  a  faintly  ironical  smile  in  her  eyes — “you 
wish  your  words  to  bear  the  impress  of  proph¬ 
ecy.  I  do  not  intend,  leading  you  into  a  dis- 


160 


Adrienne 


cussion,  but  will  say  that,  however  pleased  I 
should  be  to  meet  you  again,  I  should  object  to 
the  ground  upon  which  you  mention  our  meet¬ 
ing  must  take  place.  Profiting  by  your  ex¬ 
ample,  I  must  declare  my  undying  faith  in  the 
final  triumph  of  the  Confederate  cause  when  it 
shall  have  been  transformed  into  an  independ¬ 
ent  and  prosperous  government.” 

“I  see,”  he  laughed,  “you  are  not  to  be  per¬ 
suaded,  and,  at  heart,  are  a  rebel  to  the  core.” 

“I  am  only  reasonable  and  consistent,”  she 
answered,  smiling  brightly.  “I  thank  you, 
Lieutenant  Havelock,  for  your  kind  attention 
and  trouble ;  and  though  I  am  anxious  the 
South  should  succeed,  I  sincerely  pray  you  may 
not  meet  your  fate  through  the  deadly  aim  of 
a  Confederate  ball.” 

“I  am  convinced,  Miss  cle  Courcelles,  you 
are  at  least  a  generous  foe.  In  parting,  allow 
me  to  say  that  I  have  a  prophetic  feeling  that 
our  next  meeting  is  not  far  distant;  and  now 
that  you  are  going  where  the  country  is  con¬ 
tinually  under  the  blaze  of  gunpowder,  I 
would  urge  you  to  be  constantly  on  your  guard. 
Good-by.”  Turning,  without  another  word,  he 
walked  steadily  out  of  the  room,  the  military 
ring  of  his  step  reaching  her  ears  until  it  had 
died  away  in  the  distance. 

The  task  of  traveling  alone  Adrienne  had 
undertaken  with  considerable  qualms,  Realiz- 


Adrienne 


161 


ing,  however,  there  could  be  no  turning  back, 
she  pushed  forward  unfalteringly  in  her  de¬ 
termination  to  reach  her  destination. 

Upon  reaching  Richmond  she  was  gravely 
advised  by  the  authorities  of  the  difficulties  she 
would  perhaps  encounter  on  the  road.  But  for¬ 
tunately,  discovering  that  a  reconnoitering 
cavalry  squad  was  on  the  eve  of  moving  toward 
the  Potomac,  she  sought  at  once  to  place  her¬ 
self  under  the  protection  of  the  gallant  captain, 
who  readily  agreed  to  guard  her,  even  to  the 
neighborhood  of  her  grandfather’s  residence, 
whose  staunch  principles  and  unstinted  hospi¬ 
tality,  he  assured  her,  had  a  wide  reputation. 

A  carriage  having  been  procured  for 
Adrienne’s  personal  accommodation,  and  a 
spring  wagon  for  her  baggage,  they  started  off, 
with  the  Captain  and  his  men  riding  far  in  ad¬ 
vance  of  the  carriage,  though  never  long  out  of 
sight. 

Unable  to  resist  the  consciousness  of  her 
lonely  condition,  Adrienne  felt  as  tranquil  as 
could  be  expected  in  view  of  the  uncertain 
nature  of  her  journey,  and  was  glad,  as  the 
evening  shadows  were  darkening  into  night, 
when  the  entire  convoy  halted  on  the  outskirts 
of  a  small  hamlet,  before  a  plain,  substantial 
residence,  at  the  gate  of  which  stood  a  woman 
whom  the  Captain  supposed  was  the  lady  of  the 
house.  After  a  short  interview  he  gave 


162 


Adrienne 


Adrienne  into  her  charge,  who  smilingly  wel¬ 
comed  the  girl,  though  with  considerable  curi¬ 
osity  as  she  removed  her  hat  and  veil,  revealing 
her  beautiful  face.  Comfortable  quarters  were 
placed  at  the  Captain's  disposal  for  his  men, 
and  the  two  drivers  were  safely  housed.  Pres¬ 
ently  there  was  spread  before  the  hungry  trav¬ 
elers  a  memorable  supper,  for  which  the  old 
Virginia  kitchen  is  so  celebrated.  An  undis¬ 
turbed  night’s  rest  followed.  They  rose  with 
the  early  dawn  and  were  soon  en  route.  Their 
progress  over  roads  channeled  and  rutted  by 
constant  travel  of  army  supply  wagons,  proved 
anything  but  easy  going,  and  Adrienne  natural¬ 
ly  concluded  she  would  indeed  have  cause  to  be 
thankful  if  she  should  get  through  the  day  with¬ 
out  any  broken  bones.  She  was  resting  con¬ 
fidently  on  the  word  an  untried  stranger  had 
given,  and  congratulated  herself  that  at  the 
passing  of  every  mile-stone  she  was  surely  near¬ 
ing  her  destination. 

As  the  rays  of  the  sun  slanted  long,  and  they 
were  driving  through  a  region  of  tall  forest 
trees,  the  dreamy,  peaceful  hour  disturbed  alone 
by  the  notes  of  a  sweet-singing  bird,  making 
itself  heard  above  the  slight  noise  of  the  wheels, 
all  at  once,  to  her  intense  amazement,  as  she 
leaned  against  the  carriage  window  looking  out 
at  the  passing  scenery,  she  descried  a  cavalcade 
of  soldiers  coming  toward  them  in  a  swift, 


Adrienne 


163 


sweeping  charge.  Her  heart  sprang  into  her 
throat,  as  quick,  furious  firing  instantly  fol¬ 
lowed.  The  carriage  stopped  short.  The  driver 
sprang  to  his  feet,  and  with  a  look  of  terror  on 
his  ebony  face  exclaimed,  “By  gosh !”  and  leap¬ 
ing  over  the  wheels  disappeared  as  though  the 
ground  had  swallowed  him,  before  the  affright¬ 
ed  girl  half-realized  his  intention.  Simply  over¬ 
come  with  terror  by  the  plunging,  panting, 
snorting  horses, — though  they  made  no  attempt 
to  run, — she  scarcely  had  the  strength  to  force 
open  the  door  and  scramble  to  the  ground, 
where  she  stood  trying  to  meet  death  as  bravely 
as  possible. 

But  a  sudden  silence  fell  where,  but  a  mo¬ 
ment  ago,  there  had  been  confusion  and  tumult 
of  battle.  Failing  to  comprehend  the  issue,  and 
scarcely  conscious  of  what  she  was  doing, 
Adrienne  kept  her  place,  a  look  of  pain  still 
shining  in  her  eyes  and  her  face  white  as  death, 
while  her  sweet,  sensitive  lips  looked  as  though 
carved  in  marble.  Happily,  there  was  a  diver¬ 
sion  by  the  Captain’s  sudden  appearance,  who 
rode  up  and  dismounted.  But  as  he  glanced 
quickly  round  he  exclaimed, 

“Your  driver,  Miss  de  Courcelles — what  has 
become  of  him?  Surely  you  have  not  been 
alone  during  this  little  ordeal?” 


164 


Adrienne 


“Alas!”  was  the  answer,  the  suspicion  of  a 
tremor  in  her  low  tones,  “at  first  sound  of  the 
guns  he  fled,  completely  panic-stricken.” 

“The  cowardly  rascal !”  He  looked  down 
into  the  girl’s  white  face,  his  eyes  singularly 
gentle  and  sympathetic.  “But,  Miss  de  Cour- 
celles,  you  must  understand  that  I  acted  purely 
on  the  defensive,  and  would  not,  of  my  own 
free  choice,  have  exposed  you  to  the  uproar  and 
danger  of  this  little  skirmish.” 

The  Captain  now  stood  leaning  against  his 
horse,  fanning  himself  vigorously  with  his  cap. 

“It  seems  marvelous,”  was  the  low,  con¬ 
strained  reply,  “that  one  soul  should  have  es¬ 
caped  such  deadly  firing.  And  certainly,  Cap¬ 
tain,  you  could  not  have  been  on  your  guard 
against  so  sudden  an  attack.” 

“A  soldier,  Miss  de  Courcelles,  is  always 
ready  for  battle.  Apart  from  the  fright  it  must 
have  occasioned  you ,  I  cannot  deny  that  I  en¬ 
joyed  the  little  fracas  with  considerable  zest!” 
his  swarthy  face  and  black  eyes  lighting  up  with 
a  peculiar  flash  of  feeling. 

“Is  it  so,  Captain,  that  you  soldiers  actually 
enjoy  thrusting  your  sword  through  an  enemy? 
How  one’s  blood  curdles  at  the  mere  thought 
of  the  cruelty  of  war.  But,  tell  me,  was  any  one 
wounded  or  killed  ?” 

“Strange  to  say,  the  only  serious  sufferer  is 
the  Union  officer  who  led  the  charge,  and  who 


Adrienne 


165 


is  so  severely  wounded  that  I  must  bestir  myself 
and  get  him  on  the  road  to  a  safe  asylum  and  a 
surgeon.” 

“If  you  should  need  a  conveyance,”  said 
she  graciously,  “this  carriage  is  at  your  dis¬ 
posal.” 

“What,”  he  exclaimed,  “sacrifice  your  con¬ 
venience  to  the  comfort  of  a  stranger,  and  an 
enemy !” 

“He  is  a  human  being,  in  a  critical  condition. 
I  can  travel  the  remaining  distance  in  the  little 
wagon  with  my  trunks.  Do  not  refuse,  Cap¬ 
tain,  but  hasten,  lest  the  shock  and  loss  of  blood 
will  be  too  much  for  him.” 

He  was  convinced  by  her  frank  smile,  and 
mounting  his  horse,  rode  away,  muttering  to 
himself,  “An  extraordinarily  unselfish  young 
lady.” 

Left  to  herself,  Adrienne  looked  about  her, 
and  selecting  a  nice  leafy  spot  on  the  side  of 
the  road,  seated  herself  to  wait  the  Captain’s 
return.  Suddenly  the  sound  of  creaking  wheels 
caught  her  ear,  and  the  next  moment,  creeping 
round  a  clump  of  trees  in  a  bend  of  the  road, 
came  the  little  wagon  jogging  along.  The  old 
darky  had  been  taking  his  own  time  over  the 
rough,  rutty  road,  which  had  been  fortunate 
for  Adrienne.  For,  had  he  been  on  hand  at 
the  time  of  the  skirmish,  she  would  have  been 
minus  another  driver. 


166 


Adrienne 


The  prisoners  presently  came  filing  by  under 
guard.  At  sight  of  the  officer’s  limp,  drooping 
figure,  half-reclining  in  the  carriage,  and  his 
face  faint  and  white  as  death,  a  feeling  of 
sublime  pity  filled  Adrienne’s  soul.  She  could 
scarcely  repress  the  tears  of  sympathy  that 
sprang  to  her  eyes.  But  the  Captain,  bringing 
up  the  rear,  now  dismounted  at  her  side. 

“Miss  de  Courcelles,”  said  he,  “I  hate  to 
interfere  with  your  comfort  and  start  you  off 
on  another  processional  march,  but  the  sooner 
you  are  under  shelter  the  better.  We  must  not 
waste  time;  so,  allow  me,”  and  he  assisted  her 
with  care  to  the  little  back  seat  in  the  wagon, 
and  the  next  moment  they  were  driving  ahead, 
bumping,  swaying,  and  jolting  along  regard¬ 
less  of  her  nerves  and  powers  of  endurance.  As 
they  progressed  laboriously  on  the  way  Ad¬ 
rienne  felt  incapable  almost  of  lucid  thought. 
Trembling  at  every  fleeting  shadow  in  which 
she  felt  danger  lurked,  she  seemed  to  have  just 
gotten  rid  of  the  clutch  of  some  horrible  night¬ 
mare.  The  day  having  settled  into  twilight, 
fire-flies  flashed  in  and  out  among  the  bushes 
grouped  by  the  road-side. 

On  account  of  Adrienne’s  presence,  the 
soldiers  were  pushing  steadily  forward  to  a 
place  of  safety,  feeling  the  responsibility  of  so 
delicate  a  charge.  Besides,  knowing  they  were 


Adrienne 


167 


not  safe  from  another  attack,  they  wished  to  be 
free  to  do  effectual  work. 

But  as  the  wagon  was  now  groping  its  way 
through  the  darkness,  all  at  once  it  came  to  a 
violent  halt.  The  old  darky,  starting  to  his  feet, 
exclaimed  in  gasping  tones  of  smothered  horror. 

“Good  Gawd !  young  Missus,  who  is  dem  I 
hears  a  talkin’  ?” 

“Drive  on,  and  we  shall  see,”  she  said  curtly. 

“Now,  young  Missus,”  he  answered  squeam¬ 
ishly,  “de  good  Lawd  knows  you  is  suttinly 
furgittin’  de  sponserbility  I  be  fetchin’  on  me- 
se’f  by  carry  in’  you  into  trouble.”  And  stolidly 
settling  himself  on  the  seat,  he  refused  to  budge 
another  inch. 

Compelled  to  submit,  Adrienne  sat  thinking 
intensely.  She  began  to  shiver  with  nameless 
dread  as  a  creepy  feeling  of  fear  came  over  her. 
Straining  her  eyes  into  the  Egyptian  darkness, 
suddenly  she  seemed  to  distinguish  the  dim 
outline  of  figures  a  few  paces  off,  and  the  next 
moment  hearing  the  Captain’s  deep  bass  voice 
in  earnest  conversation  with  a  woman  whose 
tones  of  culture  and  refinement  revealed  to  her 
that  she  was  a  lady,  she  listened  as  the  lady  as¬ 
sured  the  Captain  that  she  had  been  lurking  in 
the  woods  in  the  hope  of  his  passing  that  way, 
solely  to  warn  him  of  a  conspiracy  on  foot  to 
capture  him  that  night  with  his  company. 


168 


Adrienne 


“I  have  been  contriving  all  day,  Captain,”  she 
added,  “some  method  of  giving  you  and  those 
concerned,  a  timely  alarm.” 

“Mere  words,  Miss  Preston,  are  weak  to  fully 
express  my  appreciation  of  your  brave,  unself¬ 
ish  act,  which  amounts  to  the  saving  of  myself 
and  men.”  And  there  was  no  mistaking  the 
deep  note  of  gratitude  in  the  Captain’s  voice. 
However,  the  sound  of  Adrienne’s  name  from 
the  Captain’s  lips,  as  he  proceeded  to  explain 
to  the  lady  her  presence  and  dependence  on  him¬ 
self  for  protection,  almost  took  the  girl’s  breath 
away.  But  the  prompt  reply — a  cool  proposal 
by  the  lady  to  undertake  the  Captain’s  responsi¬ 
bility  and  pilot  his  charge,  the  countrv  being 
familiar,  the  remaining  distance  to  her  grand¬ 
father,  whom,  she  declared,  she  knew  well  from 
character — though  it  struck  the  girl  with  as¬ 
tonishment,  was  of  infinite  relief  to  her  as  she 
sat  quietly  in  the  dark,  and  she  had  not  yet  re¬ 
covered  from  her  surprise  when  they  came  up. 

“I  was  certain,  Miss  de  Courcelles,”  said  the 
Captain,  cheerfully,  “you  were  somewhere  near. 
This  is  Miss  Preston,  who  has  expressed  a 
desire  to  help  you  in  this  strenuous  hour.” 

“I  am  only  too  thankful,”  came  the  eager, 
cordial  reply,  just  as  they  caught  sight  of  one 
another’s  face  by  the  flash  of  a  match  struck  by 
the  Captain  across  his  boot  heel,  “for  Miss  Pres- 


Adrienne 


169 


ton's  charitable  offer  of  assistance.  Miss  Pres¬ 
ton,  you  can  not  know  how  happy  your  kindness 
has  made  me.” 

“I  suppose  I  may  say,  Miss  de  Courcelles, 
that  you  have  practically  accomplished  your 
journey,"  the  Captain  said,  now  assisting  Miss 
Preston  to  the  seat  beside  Adrienne.  “And  I 
assure  you,  as  I  leave  you  in  good  hands,  that 
it  will  not  be  long  before  you  shall  have  reached 
the  end  of  your  road  in  safety.” 

“Ah,  Captain,”  she  said,  an  unsteady  note 
in  the  low  tones,  “now  that  1  must  bid  you 
adieu,  allow  me  to  thank  you  so  earnestly  for 
all  the  kindness  you  have  shown  me  in  this  sore 
need.  I  shall  ever  remember  you,  Captain,  with 
feelings  of  warmest  gratitude.” 

“I  do  not  desire  thanks  for  protecting  a  lady 
in  distress.  And  hereafter,  Miss  de  Courcelles, 
should  you  find  yourself  driven  into  difficulties, 
an  appeal  to  me  shall  meet  with  prompt  re¬ 
sponse.  I  will  now  say  good-by  to  you  both, 
praying  you  may  steer  safe  from  all  breakers  on 
your  journey.” 

Starting  them  off  on  the  road  leading  to  the 
home  of  Miss  Preston,  the  Captain  took  the 
opposite  direction,  plunging  into  the  blackness 
of  the  forest  beyond  to  join  his  company. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


On  a  broad  white  turnpike,  amid  the  soft, 
sweet  gloaming,  a  droll-looking  little  wagon 
came  laggine  along,  drawn  by  a  lazy  horse, 
whose  halting  gait  plainly  told  of  his  readiness 
to  give  up  the  race.  The  old  darky,  trying  in 
vain  to  mend  his  pace  by  an  unsparing  applica¬ 
tion  of  the  whip,  finally  yielded  droopingly  to 
the  existing  state  of  things. 

Two  young  ladies,  sitting  on  the  back  seat 
of  the  wagon,  were  making  the  best  of  their 
cramped  condition  by  conversing  upon  various 
subjects,  thus  dragging  the  weary  hours  by. 
Adrienne,  however,  leaned  back  and  listened, 
while  Miss  Preston  did  most  of  the  talking.  At 
last,  reaching  a  dirt  road  leading  off  from  the 
turnpike,  Miss  Preston  directed  the  driver  to 
turn  aside  and  follow  it.  But  a  short  distance, 
and  they  came  to  a  large  white  gate,  through 
which  they  passed  into  an  extensive  park-like 
enclosure.  Sitting  some  distance  back  among 
the  trees,  revealed  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  was 
an  imposing  Colonial  residence  supported  by 
immense  fluted  columns,  its  glimmering  lights 
from  the  window  up-stairs  plainly  in  sight. 
The  travelers  were  soon  out  of  the  wagon, 


Adrienne 


171 


traversing  in  silence  the  broad  gravel  drive 
leading  up  to  the  main  entrance.  Miss  Preston, 
who  was  a  little  in  advance  of  Adrienne,  passed 
up  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell,  which  was 
promptly  answered  by  a  sedate  looking  old  col¬ 
ored  major-domo,  who,  upon  Miss  Preston’s 
request  to  see  Mr.  Stanley,  conducted  them 
through  a  wide  lofty  hall  into  an  elegant  draw¬ 
ing-room,  where  they  were  asked  to  be  seated 
in  luxurious  chairs. 

Adrienne,  in  view  of  the  coming  meeting 
with  her  grandfather,  sat  nervous  and  tremb¬ 
ling.  Presently,  footsteps  were  heard  ap¬ 
proaching,  and  at  once  there  appeared  in  the 
door  a  stately  looking  old  gentleman,  attired  in 
black.  His  white  hair,  thrown  loosely  back  from 
his  brow,  revealed  a  scholarly  looking  face, 
lighted  up  by  a  pair  of  alert,  incisive  eyes.  Ad¬ 
vancing  a  few  steps  into  the  room,  he  stood  a 
moment  glancing  from  one  to  the  other.  But 
as  Adrienne  made  no  attempt  to  meet  him,  Miss 
Preston,  feeling  compelled  to  come  to  her  res¬ 
cue,  moved  forward  with  extended  hand,  smil¬ 
ing  graciously  as  she  said, 

“Mr.  Stanley,  you  do  not  know  me,  but  I 
have  heard  of  you  so  often  I  feel  I  know  you 
quite  well.  I  am  Miss  Preston,  almost  a 
neighbor  of  yours,  from  a  county  not  far  off. 
This  is  my  friend  Miss  de  Courcelles,  recently 
from  Mississippi,  who  has  been  separated  from 


172 


Adrienne 


her  friends  by  an  unfortunate  train  of  circum¬ 
stances,  and  providentially  falling  into  my  care 
I  have  taken  her  under  my  protecting  wing.” 

At  mention  of  Adrienne’s  name,  a  chord  of 
memory  in  Mr.  Stanley’s  brain  began  to  vibrate, 
and  fixing  his  eyes  upon  her  he  repeated  her 
name  in  a  whisper,  then  suddenly  aloud,  in 
much  agitation,  he  said, 

“That  name,  with  your  striking  resemblance 
to  her,  could  belong  to  no  other  than  her  own 
child,  my  dear.”  Now  approaching  the  quiver¬ 
ing  girl,  “Are  you  my  granddaughter  ?” 

“My  mother  was  Grace  Stanley.”  But  her 
sentence  was  finished  in  the  arms  of  her  grand¬ 
father,  who  held  her  in  a  close,  tender  embrace, 
saying  in  broken  accents, 

“Is  it  so,  my  prayer  is  answered  at  last? 
My  child,  I  have  been  hard,  but  I  have  deeply 
repented,  though  I  realize  it  is  too  late  for  her 
to  know.” 

“I  am  certain  my  mother  could  not  have  died 
with  any  bitterness  in  her  heart  toward  her  own 
father.  Knowing  your  generous  nature  so  well, 
I  am  certain  she  looked  forward  to  your  for¬ 
giveness  in  the  end,  even  though  she  had  to  die 
without  hearing  it  from  your  lips.” 

“I  must  confess,  my  dear,  to  have  had  very 
little  control  over  my  blind  prejudices  at  that 
period  in  my  life,  which  was  ever  my  besetting 
sin.  But  lengthening  years  have  given  me  time 


Adrienne 


173 


to  reflect,  and  realize  wherein  I  have  been  seri¬ 
ously  at  fault.  Tell  me  of  your  father,  my  child. 
Where  is  he  at  present  ?” 

She  glanced  up  into  his  keen  eyes,  smiling 
frankly,  and  feeling  there  was  nothing  mys¬ 
terious  nor  subtle  in  the  answer  she  had  to  give 
in  reference  to  one  who,  she  knew  so  well,  had 
not  been  fortunate  enough  to  possess  a  place  in 
the  favor  of  this  stately  old  gentleman. 

“My  father  is  now  residing  in  Cairo,  Egypt. 
His  health  was  almost  a  complete  wreck  at  the 
time  of  his  leaving  the  United  States,  but  a 
continued  residence  in  the  dry,  invigorating 
climate  of  the  East  seems  to  have  restored  his 
shattered  strength,  and  I  do  not  think  he  could 
now  be  induced  to  exchange  his  foreign  home 
for  one  on  this  side.  Through  my  father’s  de¬ 
sire  to  have  me  educated  in  my  native  land  ac¬ 
counts  for  my  being  at  present  in  the  United 
States.  But  as  early  as  there  is  a  safe  oppor¬ 
tunity  I  shall  join  him  at  Cairo,  where  he  pro¬ 
poses  we  shall  live  permanently.1 1 

“Now,  my  child,  how  came  you  here f  For, 
see,  we  are  but  a  stone’s  throw  from  the  Union 
army.” 

“Ah,  grandfather,”  she  said,  with  a  winning 
smile,  “could  you  have  seen  the  picturesque 
manner  in  which  I  have  entered  the  sacred  pre¬ 
cincts  of  your  home,  you  would  congratulate 
me  on  my  temerity,  and  be  convinced  that 


174 


Adrienne 


naught  but  direst  necessity  could  have  driven 
me  to  such  an  expedience.  I  will  explain  that 
it  was  only  a  short  while  ago,  on  a  bright  and 
beautiful  morning,  my  friend,  Mrs.  Willesly 
(who  is  a  daughter  of  my  guardian),  and  my¬ 
self  were  driven  for  refuge  in  the  hour  of  danger 
to  the  Federal  battle-ships.” 

“Then  you  were  taken  prisoners?” 

“It  was  purely  the  accident  of  war,  I  am 
sure,  grandfather.  Though  our  detention  was 
unpleasant,  it  could  not  have  been  designated  so 
harshly.” 

But  insisting  that  she  should  begin  at  the 
beginning  and  give  a  circumstantial  account  of 
her  experience,  Mr.  Stanley  placed  his  head  in 
a  comfortable  position  on  the  cushioned  back  of 
his  chair,  thus  declaring  himself  an  interested 
audience. 

Adrienne  related  it  all  in  as  few  words  as  pos¬ 
sible,  and  when  she  had  finished  her  grandfather 
turned  to  her  in  a  most  affectionate  manner  and 
said, 

“My  dear,  I  am  happy  and  thankful  to  afford 
you  all  the  protection  in  my  power.  But  you 
will  soon  comprehend,  alas !  how  entirely  we 
are  in  the  hands  and  at  the  mercy  of  the  enemy.” 

The  short  silence  that  followed  was  suddenly 
broken  by  the  appearance  of  a  young  lady,  who 
had  advanced  some  few  paces  into  the  room, 
when,  perceiving  Adrienne,  she  stopped  abrupt- 


Adrienne 


175 


ly,  regarding  her  with  unfeigned  astonishment. 
While  the  undisguised  surprise  and  constraint 
manifested  toward  each  other  by  the  two  ladies 
at  once  awakened  in  Mr.  Stanley’s  mind  a  feel¬ 
ing  of  keenest  curiosity.  He  rose  from  his 
chair,  turning  to  the  young  lady,  and  saying 
questioningly, 

“Belle,  I  judge  by  your  manner  that  you 
have  seen  this  young  lady  before.” 

“Yes,  grandfather,”  in  curt  tones,  “I  remem¬ 
ber  once  to  have  met  Miss  de  Courcelles  in  New 
Orleans.”  And  vouchsafing  a  distant  bow  to 
Adrienne,  she  turned  to  quit  the  room. 

“Hold,”  said  Mr.  Stanley,  throwing  out  his 
hand  with  a  formal,  dignified  gesture,  “I  have 
something  to  say  that  will  surprise  you  even 
more  than  the  young  lady’s  presence  in  this 
room.  Miss  de  Courcelles  is  your  cousin,  and 
my  granddaughter.” 

“Is  it  possible !”  she  gasped.  “Why,  there  is 
not  a  drop  of  Stanley  blood  apparent  in  her 
features.” 

“She  has  her  father’s  complexion,  it  is  true, 
but  her  expression  is  all  her  mother’s.”  And 
he  now  contemplated  Adrienne’s  beautiful  face, 
while  the  girl  herself  had  drawn  the  conclusion 
from  Miss  Conrad’s  behavior  that  this  revela¬ 
tion  had  been  exceedingly  distasteful,  and  her 
lips  accordingly  had  become  proud  and  tremu¬ 
lous. 


176 


Adrienne 


“I  am  not  responsible  for  the  connection, 
Miss  Conrad,”  she  said  to  the  young  lady,  coolly 
and  firmly,  “and  will  assure  you  my  presence  in 
my  grandfather’s  house  shall  not  exceed  an 
hour  over  a  safe  opportunity  of  getting  away.” 

“Tut,  tut,  my  dears,  this  show  of  animosity 
between  two,  who  should  be  friends  at  least,  is 
exceedingly  irregular.  It  is  a  lady’s  province 
to  be  free  from  vindictiveness.”  Mr.  Stanley’s 
voice  was  stirred  with  emotion.  But  ere  the 
words  had  left  his  lips,  Miss  Conrad,  with  a 
proud  poise  of  the  head,  had  swept  from  the 
room,  Adrienne  immediately  approached  her 
grandfather  with  sweet  humility  and  dignity, 
as  she  said, 

“I  regret  so  much,  grandfather,  to  have  an¬ 
noyed  you ;  and  believe  me,  in  the  future  I  shall 
try  never  to  give  you  cause  to  complain.” 

“I  would  have  you  overcome  this  foolish 
pride,  my  child,  which  will  only  bring  you  a 
harvest  of  misery  in  time  to  come.  Amiability 
is  an  indispensable  ingredient  in  a  young  lady’s 
temperament.  I  must  say  that  I  deplore  having 
seen  this  ugly  little  weakness  in  Belle’s  charac¬ 
ter,  and  shall  take  it  on  myself  to  remonstrate 
with  her  seriously  in  regard  to  the  matter.” 

Adrienne’s  room  that  night  commanded  a 
view  of  the  Potomac,  beyond  which  the  bright 
watch-fires  in  the  Union  camp  in  the  distance, 
throwing  a  red  glare  over  the  dome  of  the  sky, 


Adrienne 


177 


so  charmed  and  fascinated  her,  that  as  she  stood 
watching  the  attractive  picture,  unconscious  of 
the  passing  hours,  the  chime  of  twelve  o’clock 
from  the  lower  hall  startled  her  from  her  idle 
dreams  and  sent  her  to  bed.  The  chilling  en¬ 
counter  with  Miss  Conrad  still  weighing  on  her 
spirits,  she  presently  unconsciously  exclaimed 
aloud,  “Is  there  no  escape  from  enemies  with¬ 
out,  and  the  menace  of  one  within?” 

Miss  Preston,  having  been  a  surprised,  silent 
witness  to  this  little  family  drama,  naturally  felt 
interested  to  see  it  played  out  to  the  finale,  of 
which,  however,  by  the  appearance  of  a  few 
Confederate  scouts,  under  whose  protection  she 
felt  forced  to  place  herself  on  her  return  home, 
she  was  denied.  En  route,  she  fell  to  thinking 
of  the  discovery  she  had  made.  She  felt  that 
Miss  Conrad’s  open  dislike  for  Adrienne  was 
purely  based  upon  the  ground  of  the  young 
lady’s  consciousness  of  Adrienne’s  indefinable 
charm,  that  invariably  captivated  those  with 
whom  she  came  in  contact. 

The  days  moved  swiftly  on.  Meantime,  as 
nothing  could  exceed  Miss  Conrad’s  displeas¬ 
ure  and  chagrin  at  the  appearance  of  this  new 
cousin,  she  kept  up  the  same  cool,  unbroken 
front,  a  barrier  the  girl  in  no  way  felt  disposed 
to  overstep,  while  she  had  had  occasion  to 
know  that  her  grandfather  had  carried  out  his 
threat  to  reprove  the  young  lady  in  round  terms. 


178 


Adrienne 


But  as  there  had  been  no  change  in  Miss  Con¬ 
rad's  proudly  polite  manner  toward  the  “intrud¬ 
ing  cousin,”  through  sympathy,  though  not 
often  given  to  sentiment,  there  had  begun  to 
grow  in  the  heart  of  this  old  gentleman  an 
earnest,  tender  affection  for  this  singularly 
lonely  and  lovely  girl.  Consequently,  Adrienne 
often  found  herself  accompanying  her  grand¬ 
father  on  his  accustomed  morning  drives  in  the 
neighborhood. 

“I  find,  my  dear,”  he  said,  as  they  were 
leisurely  trotting  along  on  the  turnpike,  “the 
more  I  stay  indoors  the  less  interest  I  seem  to 
take  in  outside  affairs,  therefore  I  force  myself 
to  go  as  a  defense  against  any  morbid  attack.” 

For  Adrienne  the  two  events  of  the  day  were 
the  morning  drive  with  her  grandfather  and 
the  reveille  in  the  Union  camp  in  the  evening. 
It  was  impossible  to  resist  the  roll  of  the  drum, 
that  never  failed  to  draw  her  to  the  window, 
where,  plainly  in  view,  at  a  distance,  the  grassy 
slopes  were  white  with  hundreds  of  tents,  mak¬ 
ing  a  scene  so  picturesque  in  beauty  she  could 
not  refrain  from  a  romantic  admiration. 

But  the  truth  began  to  stare  her  in  the  face, 
that  the  prospect  of  getting  away  from  her 
grandfather's  house  was  still  as  indefinite  as 
ever.  On  one  occasion,  accidentally  overhear¬ 
ing  Miss  Conrad  remark  to  Air.  Stanley  that 
Mrs.  Vincent  had  returned  to  her  home  in 


Adrienne 


179 


Washington  City,  her  heart  trembled  with  un¬ 
speakable  joy.  For  the  mention  of  the  familiar 
name  had  stirred  memories  that  of  late  had 
seemed  to  drift  into  a  silent  past. 

Winter  arrived,  bringing  with  it  extremely 
cold  weather.  The  entire  face  of  the  earth  was 
covered  with  a  sheet  of  ice  and  snow.  Each 
day  was  only  a  repetition  of  the  other,  silent, 
dreary,  and  monotonous.  For  the  sake  of  a 
little  diversion,  Adrienne  often  resorted  to  the 
veranda,  that  she  might  look  out  upon  the  white, 
silent  world  around  her.  She  was  standing  in 
the  biting  cold  one  morning,  when  suddenly 
she  observed  a  detachment  of  Federal  soldiers 
passing  on  the  turnpike,  the  next  moment  fol¬ 
lowed  by  a  small  body  of  Confederate  troops, 
evidently  courting  a  running  fight.  Firing  be¬ 
gan  immediately.  Adrienne  held  her  breath  as 
volley  after  volley  was  repeated,  rushing  on. 
one  in  pursuit  of  the  other,  until  the  noise  of 
the  guns  died  away  in  the  distance.  As  she 
drew  a  long,  deep  sigh  of  relief,  the  girl  gravely 
acknowledged  to  herself  the  state  of  affairs 
must  soon  culminate.  After  this  the  frequent 
fusilades  kept  Adrienne  continually  on  the  alert, 
until  she  gradually  grew  accustomed  to  the 
noise  of  rifle  shots. 

About  this  time,  Mr.  Stanley,  beginning  to 
realize  the  Confederates  were  being  forced  into 
giving  ground  every  day,  was  convinced  they 


180 


Adrienne 


could  not  much  longer  hold  out  against  the 
stupendous  pressure  brought  to  bear  upon  them. 
Sad  and  dejected  he  walked  the  veranda  in  piti¬ 
ful  helplessness,  as  repeated  sighs  burst  from 
his  lips.  Oh !  the  agonizing  thought  of  having 
to  yield  to  an  overwhelming  onslaught.  It  was 
an  unequal  contest,  the  gravity  of  which  now 
was  beginning  to  be  a  source  of  great  anxiety 
for  the  future  in  the  hearts  of  the  Southern 
people. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


At  sound  of  the  early  bugle-call  in  the  Union 
camp  one  morning,  Adrienne  rose  earlier  than 
usual,  that  she  might  take  a  turn  on  the  veranda 
before  the  breakfast  hour.  While  making  her 
toilet,  catching  glimpses  through  the  windows 
of  the  white  mantle  over  the  entire  woodland, 
the  boughs  of  the  trees  simply  weighted  down 
with  snow  and  pendant  icicles,  strangely 
enough  the  wintry  landscape  suggested  the  op¬ 
posite  picture — love  speeding  her  thoughts  over 
the  seas  to  the  odorous,  balmy  shores  of  the 
silent  East,  to  the  welcoming  arms  of  her  father 
outstretched  to  receive  her. 

Suddenly  the  click  of  horse-hoofs  on  the  crisp 
ice  caught  her  ear,  when,  quickly  drawing  up 
the  sash,  and  looking  down  on  the  early  intruder 
with  curiosity  and  interest,  to  her  amazement 
she  discovered  a  mounted  Confederate  officer 
directly  beneath  her  window,  who  this  moment 
chanced  a  hasty  glance  upward.  Their  eyes 
met.  Over  his  features  flashed  a  look  of  de¬ 
lighted  surprise,  as  with  uplifted  hat  he  bowed 
nearly  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle.  With  an 
answering  glow  and  smile  irradiating  her  lovely 
face,  she  bowed  her  head  in  cordial  greeting. 


182 


Adrienne 


But  her  whole  soul  was  tossed  in  the  throes  of 
emotion.  She  fell  on  her  knees  beside  the  win¬ 
dow  and  leaned  her  head  upon  her  arms,  try¬ 
ing  to  recover  her  equilibrium.  Presently  ris¬ 
ing  to  her  feet,  a  feeling  of  excitement  half¬ 
painful,  half-delightful  filled  her  heart  as  she 
prepared  to  go  down-stairs. 

All  at  once  his  imminent  danger  occurring 
to  her,  she  clasped  her  hands  in  dismay  and 
cried  aloud,  “Oh !  what  fate  has  brought  him 
to  so  challenge  consequences?”  Then  remem¬ 
bering  his  pale,  stern  face  as  it  had  appeared  to 
her  in  the  early  gray  light  of  the  morning,  she 
was  impressed  that  his  mission  in  that  region 
was  no  child’s  play. 

Later  on,  upon  entering  the  dining-room,  she 
was  considerably  taken  aback  at  finding  Miss 
Conrad  already  comfortably  ensconced  in  a 
chair  directly  in  front  of  a  brightly  burning  fire. 
Standing  near,  leaning  against  the  mantel  and 
talking  earnestly  in  low  tones,  was  Colonel 
Strafford.  Immediately  there  was  a  rush  of 
pride  into  Adrienne’s  heart,  while  an  unwonted 
color  flushed  her  cheeks.  But  forcing  herself 
forward,  she  met  him  with  great  charm  and 
simplicity  of  manner,  while,  as  he  took  her 
hand  in  his,  addressing  her  in  his  usual  high¬ 
bred  tones,  she  detected  a  note  of  restrained 
feeling  in  his  voice. 


Adrienne 


183 


“We  seem  fated  to  meet  most  unexpectedly, 
Miss  de  Courcelles.  I  little  thought  this  morn¬ 
ing,  as  I  rode  along  in  the  cold,  cheerless  gray 
of  the  early  dawn,  such  happiness  was  in  store 
for  me.” 

“I  am  delighted  to  see  you,  Colonel  Strafford. 
It  is  always  pleasant  to  meet  old  friends.”  Her 
tone  was  conventional,  but  low  and  sweet. 
Firmly  withdrawing  her  hand  from  his  grasp, 
she  hastened  forward  to  assist  Hannah  in  plac¬ 
ing  breakfast  on  the  table,  leaving  him  staring 
after  her  with  a  glow  in  his  eyes.  But  as  he 
resumed  his  former  position  at  the  mantel,  and 
conversation  with  Miss  Conrad,  he  could  not 
resist  the  thought  of  the  subtle  change  in 
Adrienne’s  face  that  flashed  through  his  mind, 
failing  utterly  to  unravel  the  tangle. 

In  the  mean  time,  Adrienne’s  quiet  exterior  in 
no  way  betrayed  the  deep  concern  she  felt  for 
Colonel  Strafford’s  safety.  At  the  sound  of 
every  noise  on  the  ice  outside,  her  heart  sank 
within  her.  “Oh !  what  could  have  induced 
him  to  risk  himself  in  the  very  teeth  of  the 
enemy?”  was  her  constant,  unanswerable 
thought.  The  breakfast  was  ready,  and  as  Miss 
Conrad  moved  forward  to  do  the  honors  of  the 
table,  Adrienne  walked  quietly  from  the  room, 
closing  the  door  behind  her.  Bending  her 
steps  to  the  veranda,  she  stationed  herself  to 
watch,  and  give  warning  at  the  approach  of 


184 


Adrienne 


danger;  for  she  was  greatly  troubled  with  a 
vague,  uneasy  pain  at  her  heart. 

Much  to  her  surprise,  a  company  of  Confed¬ 
erate  soldiers  were  dismounted  in  one  corner 
of  the  lawn,  engaged  in  feeding  their  horses,  as 
they  talked  and  exchanged  jests  among  them¬ 
selves.  The  trees  being  stripped  of  their  leaves, 
it  was  easy  to  see  a  long  distance  on  the  turn¬ 
pike  in  either  direction.  But  suddenly  descry¬ 
ing  some  distance  off  a  body  of  Union  troops 
coming  rapidly  toward  the  house,  the  great 
terror  of  her  heart  was  realized.  Rising  trem¬ 
bling  from  her  seat,  Adrienne  fled  down  the  hall 
to  the  door  of  the  dining-room,  throwing  it  wide 
as  she  stood  breathless  and  affrighted,  gaz¬ 
ing  at  the  couple  now  so  complacently  discuss¬ 
ing  their  breakfast. 

“Save,  save  yourself,  Colonel  Strafford !”  she 
gasped,  her  white,  set  face  warning  him  there 
was  not  a  moment  to  lose.  But  in  passing  her, 
he  bent  low  and  said,' 

“Do  not  needlessly  expose  yourself  to  danger, 
I  implore  you.  Good-by,  and  God  bless  you !” 

She  could  not  have  spoken  for  her  life.  But 
after  a  moment  of  suspense  and  waiting,  that 
seemed  to  Adrienne  an  eternity  of  torture,  he 
came  dashing  by  followed  by  the  howling  Con¬ 
federates.  His  magnificent  presence,  as  he 
boldly  faced  danger  and  death,  added  to  the  at¬ 
traction  of  being  a  superb  rider,  was  indelibly 


Adrienne 


185 


impressed  upon  Adrienne's  excited  brain.  Mute 
with  terror  she  stood,  drawn  by  the  fascination 
of  the  horror  of  witnessing  a  deadly  conflict  be¬ 
tween  determined  antagonists.  Utterly  regard¬ 
less  of  her  own  personal  safety,  she  looked  at 
the  rapid  action  of  battle.  Presently  catching- 
sight,  through  the  tumult  and  smoke,  of  Colonel 
Strafford,  whose  horse  was  swaying  under  the 
saddle,  grappling  with  a  Union  officer,  who  now 
reeled  to  and  fro  and  the  next  moment  fell  to 
the  ground,  the  girl  quaked  with  excitement, 
and  was  scarcely  able  to  repress  the  cry  on  her 
lips.  Drawing  a  long  breath,  and  closing  her 
eyes,  she  hoped  to  shut  out  the  horrible  picture. 
But  at  this  juncture,  above  all  other  sounds, 
there  arose  the  thunder  of  galloping  cavalry,  and 
a  stream  of  reinforcements  rushed  up  on  the 
blaze  of  the  contest.  The  scene  was  memorable 
and  not  apt  to  be  forgotten.  The  sudden  silence 
that  followed  caused  Adrienne  to  drop  into  the 
nearest  chair,  faint  and  white,  helplessly  cling¬ 
ing  to  the  arms  with  trembling  hands.  Over¬ 
come  with  curiosity  and  anxiety,  which  seemed 
to  drive  terror  from  her  brain,  she  presently 
recovered  sufficiently  to  rise  to  her  feet  again, 
and  look  out  on  the  late  battle-ground. 

The  smoke  had  cleared  away.  Colonel  Straf¬ 
ford,  whose  horse  lay  dead  several  paces  away, 
was  now  leaning  over  the  fallen  officer,  with 
sadness  in  his  eyes,  muttering  to  himself,  “How 


186 


Adrienne 


in  all  that  is  wonderful,  came  you  here?  Ah! 
poor  fellow,  by  what  chance  is  it  that  you  have 
met  your  fate  at  my  hand?”  As  he  still  leaned 
over,  looking  into  the  face  of  the  unconscious 
soldier,  the  Union  guard  stepped  up  and  took 
him  in  charge.  Adrienne  realized  with  a 
smothered  groan  of  anguish  that  Colonel  Straf¬ 
ford  was  indeed  a  prisoner. 

Mr.  Stanley,  this  moment  walking  out  on  the 
veranda  with  stately  step,  his  face  like  ashes, 
began  a  rapid  promenade  to  and  fro,  his  features 
showing  an  inward  excitement  and  agitation  he 
was  scarcely  able  to  restrain.  But  at  the  sudden 
call  of  the  guard  to  “halt !”  as  he  presented  his 
gun,  he  drew  his  breath  hard  and  straightened 
himself,  then  turning  his  keen,  incisive  eyes  on 
the  guard,  demanded, 

“Tell  me  why  this  iniquitous  attack  is  made 
upon  an  unarmed  man?” 

“Here,  old  man,’’  called  the  guard  to  Caleb, 
who  stood  protectingly  near  his  master,  “bring 
this  gentleman’s  hat.  Your  question,  sir,  will 
perhaps  receive  a  satisfactory  answer  in  Wash¬ 
ington  City.” 

But  at  this  declaration  Adrienne  suddenly 
appeared  on  the  veranda,  with  tears  streaming 
from  her  eyes.  Bewildered  and  agitated,  she 
fell  on  her  knees  at  her  grandfather’s  feet, 
breathing  out  in  choked  accents, 

“Grandfather,  oh,  grandfather!” 


Adrienne 


187 


The  sympathetic  chord  in  the  heart  of  the 
guard  remained  utterly  callous  to  the  girl’s 
excessive  pallor  and  overwhelming  distress. 

“I  am  sorry  to  disturb  you,  Miss,”  he  said 
tersely,  “but  as  I  must  remove  my  prisoner,  I 
have  no  time  for  argument,  nor  to  indulge  in 
sentiment.” 

“Control  yourself,  my  dear,”  said  her  grand¬ 
father,  placing  his  hand  tenderly  upon  the 
bowed  head  of  the  weeping  girl.  “Remember, 
we  are  all  in  the  hands  of  a  merciful  Provi¬ 
dence.” 

Adrienne  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  that 
she  might  not  see  her  grandfather  taken  away. 
Colonel  Strafford  ventured  a  last  sad  look  at  the 
kneeling  girl  as  he  turned  to  follow. 

She  stood  up  on  her  feet  presently,  gazing 
down  the  road  by  which  the  prisoners  had  gone, 
perhaps  never  to  return,  and  everything  to  the 
girl  became  blurred  and  indistinct  with  tears — 
silent,  despairing  tears. 

Fortunately,  the  surgeon  now  appeared  on 
the  battle-ground,  drawing  Adrienne's  thoughts 
in  another  direction  as  she  watched  him  in  his 
rounds  among  the  wounded,  of  whom  there 
were  several,  Federal  and  Confederate. 

White  and  still  the  officer  lay  with  his  face 
outlined  against  the  snowy  background.  The 
surgeon  stopped  as  he  regarded  him  critically, 
then  stooping  proceeded  to  examine  him  thor- 


188 


Adrienne 


oughly.  Adrienne  looked  on  from  her  point 
of  view  with  sympathy  and  interest,  then  sud¬ 
denly  descending  the  steps  crossed  over  to  where 
he  was  gravely  engaged  with  his  patient.  But 
at  sight  of  the  ghastly  face  of  the  prostrate 
soldier  she  exclaimed  aloud,  in  astonishment, 
“Lieutenant  Havelock !” 

Her  voice  seeming  to  call  him  to  himself,  all 
at  once  his  eyes  opened,  suffused  with  a  smile 
which  extended  even  to  his  pallid  lips,  but  the 
next  moment  he  lapsed  into  his  former  state  of 
unconsciousness. 

“An  acquaintance  of  yours,  Miss?”  the 
surgeon  asked,  glancing  up  into  her  face. 

“Yes,”  briefly;  “and  as  we  have  a  spare  room 
on  the  first  floor,  I  would  suggest  that  you  can 
move  him  without  delay.” 

“You  are  thoughtful  and  kind,  Miss.  Allow 
me  to  thank  you  for  his  sake.  He  is  badly 
wounded,  and  is  now  exhausted  from  loss  of 
blood,  but  I  do  not  think  his  wounds  are  neces¬ 
sarily  fatal.” 

Lieutenant  Havelock  was  removed  on  a 
stretcher,  and  Adrienne  returned  slowly  to  the 
house.  But  not  until  she  had  reached  the  great 
empty  hall  did  the  realization  of  all  that  had 
happened  come  over  her.  She  seemed  scarcely 
able  to  rally  her  faculties.  Happily,  the  thought 
of  Miss  Conrad,  whom  she  had  not  seen  since 
the  breakfast  hour,  came  to  her  relief,  and  ac- 


Adrienne 


189 


cordingly  she  began  a  systematic  search,  open¬ 
ing  the  doors  as  she  came  to  them.  To  her  sur¬ 
prise,  in  the  darkened  library,  she  found  the 
young  lady  stretched  out  on  a  lounge  in  the 
throes  of  a  nervous  chill.  While  promptly 
administering  to  her  sufferings,  Adrienne’s 
thoughts  were  busy  with  the  conjecture  of  how 
much  of  the  morning’s  happenings  the  young 
lady  could  be  aware,  but  did  not  bring  herself 
to  mention  the  subject. 

Meanwhile,  a  protest  against  all  this  effort  to 
help  her  seemed  to  be  struggling  through  the 
young  lady’s  confused  brain,  as,  turning  directly 
to  Adrienne,  she  said, 

“I  would  not  have  you  interest  yourself  so 
much  about  me,  nor  must  you  look  so  concerned. 
I  feel  ashamed  of  myself  for  having  given  way 
to  physical  weakness.” 

Adrienne  rose  at  once  to  her  feet,  and  stood 
looking  gravely  down  upon  her. 

“If  vou  prefer  to  be  alone  I  will  leave  you,” 
was  all  she  said,  and  she  deliberately  crossed 
the  room  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

But  the  days  now  seemed  to  creep  by,  while 
the  two  cousins  were  enduring  tortures  of  un¬ 
rest  and  anxiety  on  their  grandfather’s  ac¬ 
count.  However,  as  it  was  an  engrossing  inter¬ 
est  in  common  between  them,  naturally  they 
were  drawn  together  into  a  closer  bond  of  sym¬ 
pathy,  establishing  more  amicable  relations. 


190 


Adrienne 


Alas !  troubles  began  to  thicken.  But  during 
the  distress  and  suffering  of  the  hour,  Caleb  and 
Hannah  proved  a  tower  of  strength  in  their 
willingness  to  protect  “ole  marster’s  grand¬ 
daughters/'  The  widespread  report  that  Mr. 
Stanley  had  shared  the  hapless  fate  of  many  of 
his  friends  and  neighbors  did  not  seem  to  miti¬ 
gate  in  the  least  the  pain  and  anxiety  his  grand¬ 
daughters  were  undergoing  as  they  stared  the 
fact  in  the  face  that  he  was  now  confronting  a 
question  of  life  and  death ;  while  a  sense  of  their 
own  helplessness  and  dependence  assailed  them 
at  every  point. 

Careful  attention  from  trained  nurses,  in  the 
mean  time,  had  accomplished  the  slow  but  sure 
recovery  of  Lieutenant  Havelock,  and  he  was 
pronounced  sufficiently  convalescent  to  ex¬ 
change  his  invalid  quarters  for  more  cheerful, 
health-giving  surroundings. 

The  young  ladies,  not  in  the  humor  to  court 
solitude,  every  morning  were  in  the  habit  of  col¬ 
lecting  the  papers,  and  seating  themselves  in  the 
hall  to  begin  a  fresh  search  for  some  reliable 
news  of  their  grandfather.  They  were  busily 
engaged  in  another  diligent  search  one  morn¬ 
ing,  when  a  shadow  fell  across  the  hall  door, 
and  Lieutenant  Llavelock,  a  thin,  ghost-like 
representation  of  his  former  self,  appeared  be¬ 
fore  them.  Adrienne  rose  from  her  chair  at 
once,  and  went  forward  to  meet  him  with  a 


Adrienne 


191 


bright  and  charming  manner,  then  presented 
Miss  Conrad,  before  whom  he  bowed  in 
courteous  acknowledgment  of  the  introduc¬ 
tion.  Sinking  into  a  chair  Adrienne  had 
thoughtfully  pushed  toward  him,  he  said,  his 
voice  trembling  from  weakness  as  he  spoke, 

“You  cannot  know,  Miss  de  Courcelles,  how 
longingly  I  have  been  looking  forward  to  the 
opportunity  of  expressing  my  sincere  regret 
that  it  should  have  been  through  me  you  have 
had  call  to  suffer.  I  had  no  idea  that  it  was  your 
grandfather's  ground  upon  which  I  was  sent 
to  make  an  attack.  I  received  another  inex¬ 
pressible  shock  upon  that  ill-fated  morning,  in 
that  the  blow  that  came  near  laying  me  low 
was  aimed  by  a  life-long  friend.” 

“Colonel  Strafford?"  exclaimed  the  cousins 
in  concert. 

After  reflecting  a  moment  the  Lieutenant 
replied,  in  grave  tones, 

“I  am  speaking*  of  Colonel  Strafford.  We 
have  been  friends  and  comrades  together  since 
boyhood.  But  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand 
what  he  is  doing  in  the  Confederate  ranks.  It 
is  true,  he  is  an  inveterate  traveler,  and  has 
been  so  long  absent  from  home  that  I  had  quite 
lost  the  run  of  his  bearings,  never  dreaming  of 
finding  him  on  this  side  of  the  world  as  my 
assailant  in  a  hand-to-hand  combat.  But  as 
the  smoke  was  so  thick,  and  excitement  so  great, 


192 


Adrienne 


I  do  not  know  whether  or  not  I  was  recognized 
in  turn.  I  fancy,”  now  looking  ruefully  down 
upon  his  disabled  arm  supported  in  a  sling,  “that 
in  this  I  have  received  my  final  parole.” 

This  communication  from  Lieutenant  Have¬ 
lock  bringing  vividly  before  the  minds  of  his 
fair  listeners  most  painful  recollections  of  the 
recent  tragic  occurrences,  forced  them  into  a 
silence  eloquent  of  the  distress  they  were  brave¬ 
ly  endeavoring  to  suppress. 

The  period  of  Lieutenant  Havelock's  con¬ 
valescence  was  fraught  with  moments  half-hap¬ 
py,  half-miserable.  Happy,  because  of  breath¬ 
ing  the  same  atmosphere  with  Adrienne; 
miserable,  because  of  the  illusive  hope  of  a  re¬ 
turn  of  his  devotion.  Alas !  The  truth  soon 
impressed  itself  upon  his  unwilling  perception, 
that  he  had  given  his  heart  into  the  hands  of  a 
very  unresponsive  subject,  and  accordingly  he 
became  disturbed  and  agitated.  He  set  to  work 
with  the  firm  resolution  of  getting  away  before 
he  should  have  had  time  to  betray  his  weakness. 
But  of  the  nature  of  his  regard  toward  herself, 
Adrienne  was  never  made  aware. 

Though  he  still  wore  his  arm  in  a  sling  Lieu¬ 
tenant  Havelock  had  entered  upon  a  new  lease 
of  life.  The  time  for  his  departure  had  arrived, 
and  as  he  was  bidding  the  cousins  a  reluctant 
farewell,  Miss  Conrad  suddenly  produced  a 
sealed  letter,  addressed  to  Mrs.  Vincent,  which 


Adrienne 


193 


she  asked  of  him  the  kindness  to  post  when  he 
had  reached  Washington.  Cordially  assuring 
her  that  he  would  take  great  delight  in  deliver¬ 
ing  it  in  person,  the  Lieutenant  mounted  his 
horse  and  rode  disconsolately  away. 

Miss  Conrad  turned  to  Adrienne  and  ex¬ 
plained  that  her  letter  to  Mrs.  Vincent  was  an 
appeal  to  her  for  protection  in  their  now  danger¬ 
ously  exposed  condition. 

That  Lieutenant  Havelock  had  been  faithful 
to  the  trust  placed  in  him  was  evidenced  by  the 
arrival  of  a  carriage  from  Washington,  accom¬ 
panied  by  a  message  from  Mrs.  Vincent,  won¬ 
derfully  generous  and  kind  of  which  were  these 
few  lines : 

“Come  to  me  at  once,  it  is  the  only  thing  you 
can  do.  To  whom  else  would  you  appeal  for 
comfort  in  your  trouble?  I  was  on  the  eve  of 
sending  for  you  when  Lieutenant  Havelock 
appeared  with  your  letter.” 

So,  only  too  glad  to  start  at  once  in  quest 
of  safety,  hoping  also  to  glean  some  definite 
news  of  their  grandfather,  they  called  in  Caleb 
and  Hannah  and  told  them.  Everything  was 
placed  in  their  capable  charge,  and  thus  buoyed 
with  hope,  they  were  soon  on  the  road  to  Wash¬ 
ington. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


Weary  and  heart-sick,  the  cousins  reached 
the  end  of  their  journey,  and  were  warmed  by 
Mrs.  Vincent’s  affectionate  sympathy,  such  as 
a  noble,  generous-minded  woman  only  can  give. 

Miss  Conrad,  nervous  and  over-strained, 
seemed  to  give  way  utterly. 

“Ah !  Mrs.  Vincent,”  she  said,  trying  to  re¬ 
strain  her  trembling  tones,  “we  do  indeed  ap¬ 
preciate  your  goodness.  Oh !  the  dreary,  mis¬ 
erable  time  we  have  gone  through  since  grand¬ 
father  was  taken  away  from  us,  is  beyond  the 
power  of  words  to  paint.  You  can  imagine 
how  it  has  been — worrying  over  contingencies 
that  might  arise  to  shut  him  off  completely 
from  us.” 

“It  is  needless  to  say,  dear  Belle,  how  inex¬ 
pressibly  touched  I  feel  on  account  of  your 
troubles,  but,  with  no  intention  of  magnifying 
matters,  I  really  believe  there  is  not  the  slightest 
cause  for  despair.”  And  succeeding  at  last,  in 
her  own  sweet  way,  in  quieting,  after  a  man¬ 
ner,  the  young  lady’s  distress,  Mrs.  Vincent 
presently  turned  to  Adrienne,  and  said, 

“I  am  very  certain,  Adrienne,  should  you 
feel  disposed  to  chronicle  them,  your  varied  ex- 


Adrienne 


195 


periences  since  we  parted  in  New  Orleans 
would  fill  a  good-sized  volume.” 

“But,  a  story  too  sad  in  its  meanderings  with 
which  to  burden  the  public  and  warrant  a  good 
sale,”  smiled  the  girl. 

They  had  paused  a  moment  before  the  draw¬ 
ing-room  door.  Mrs.  Vincent,  motioning 
Adrienne  to  enter,  led  the  way  up-stairs, 
anxious  to  get  Miss  Conrad  quietly  and  com¬ 
fortably  in  bed. 

As  Adrienne  opened  the  door  and  stepped 
into  the  room,  suddenly  a  gentleman  of  impos¬ 
ing  presence  emerged  from  the  shadow  of  the 
lace  curtains  at  one  of  the  front  windows.  Com¬ 
ing  quickly  toward  her,  his  eyes  flashed  instan¬ 
taneous  joy  as  he  caught  the  half-bewildered 
girl  into  his  arms,  drawing  her  closely  to  his 
heart,  while,  in  a  moment,  she  had  realized  in¬ 
deed  that  she  was  in  the  arms  of  her  father.  A 
half  expressed  sigh  of  peace,  contentment,  and 
comfort  passed  her  lips.  They  were  too  deeply 
moved  for  words.  At  last  Mr.  de  Courcelles 
broke  the  silence,  and  as  he  spoke  his  voice  was 
tremulous  with  deep  emotion. 

“My  child,  we  have  been  victims  of  most 
unfortunate  circumstances;  but,  at  last,  our 
long,  tedious  separation  is  at  an  end.” 

“But,  father,”  she  said,  with  a  ring  of  joy  in 
her  low  tones,  “I  seem  to  be  unable  to  realize 
the  height,  depth,  and  broadness  of  my  great 


196 


Adrienne 


new  happiness.  I  have  dreamed  of  you,  pour¬ 
ing  out  all  the  love  of  my  heart  upon  the  crea¬ 
ture  of  my  imagination,  and  now  that  I  have 
the  reality,  I  simply  crave  to  cling  to  you,  never 
again  to  be  taken  away.” 

Deep  affection  shone  in  his  eyes  as  he  re¬ 
garded  her  face. 

“In  appearance,  Adrienne,  you  are  beyond 
my  fondest  anticipation.  But,  accustomed  as 
I  have  been  to  regard  you  as  my  little  girl,  I 
had  not  thought  to  find  such  a  full-fledged 
young  lady.” 

She  glanced  laughingly  up  into  his  face. 

“Nor  did  I  expect  to  see  my  father  so  young 
looking.” 

“You  are  not  disappointed,  Adrienne,”  he 
smiled  caressingly,  as  he  placed  his  hand  upon 
her  soft  dusky  hair,  “that  I  am  not  a  decrepit?” 

“I  am  altogether  satisfied  with  you  just  as 
you  are,”  she  answered,  with  a  quick,  bright, 
answering  smile.  “I  would  not  have  one  cubit 
added  or  taken  away  from  your  stature,  nor 
change  the  rich  olive  tint  of  your  complexion, 
nor  would  I  have  added  or  taken  away  one 
gray  hair  of  the  very  slight  sprinkle  already 
among  your  jetty  locks,  which  gives  you  so  dis¬ 
tinguished  an  appearance,  for,  to  me,  you  are 
simply  perfect.” 

“So,  my  child,”  putting  his  hand  under  her 
chin  and  turning  her  face  for  earnest  scrutiny, 


Adrienne 


197 


“it  happens  that,  being  mutually  pleased  with 
each  other,  we  have  a  most  delightful  sequel 
to  our  troubles.'’  And  they  laughed  happily 
together.  But  having  been  on  a  prolonged 
stay  from  home,  now  that  he  had  found 
Adrienne,  Mr.  de  Courcelles  proposed  sailing 
in  the  next  steamer  on  his  return  voyage. 
Adrienne’s  brow  suddenly  saddened. 

“Father,”  said  she,  “I  shall  not  willingly 
leave  Washington  until  I  know  something 
definite  of  grandfather.  I  greatly  fear  for  his 
health  under  the  conditions  to  which  he  is 
exposed.1’ 

“Make  your  mind  at  rest,  Adrienne,  that  I 
shall  do  all  in  my  power  to  find  out  his  where¬ 
abouts.” 

“Oh,  thank  you,  father.  You  cannot  know 
what  a  sad  hour  it  was  the  morning  he  was 
taken  away  under  guard  from  his  dearly  loved 
home.  I  do  not  seem  to  forget  the  misery  of 
that  moment,  as  I  watched  the  rigid  pallor  on 
his  face.” 

Every  effort  was  put  forth  to  glean  satisfac¬ 
tory  information  of  Mr.  Stanley.  But  notwith¬ 
standing  the  diligent  search,  after  days  of  fruit¬ 
less  effort  Mr.  de  Courcelles  was  forced  to 
abandon  the  quest.  Adrienne,  utterly  helpless 
in  the  matter,  was  sorely  disappointed,  and 
trembled  for  the  life  of  her  grandfather.  Feel¬ 
ing  that  she  ought  not  to  be  a  hindrance  to  her 


198 


Adrienne 


father  in  his  arrangements,  she  yielded  cheer¬ 
fully  to  his  wish  to  sail  for  the  East. 

In  the  mean  time,  Miss  Conrad  having  suc¬ 
cumbed  to  the  nervous  shock  received  on  the 
morning  of  the  skirmish,  was  now  seriously  ill. 
Adrienne  was  sincerely  sympathetic,  but,  with 
the  exception  of  the  doctor,  nurse,  and  Mrs. 
Vincent,  no  one  was  allowed  in  her  room. 

The  morning  upon  which  Mr.  de  Courcelles 
and  Adrienne  were  to  leave  Washington  City, 
as  they  were  driving  to  the  depot  in  a  light  trap, 
suddenly  their  attention  was  attracted  a  half 
block  ahead  of  them  toward  a  droll-looking 
procession  of  old  men  in  citizen’s  dress  that 
moment  turning  the  corner.  All  were  in  black, 
shabby  and  worn,  and  many  were  topped  off 
by  the  regulation  gentleman’s  silk  hat,  now  so 
battered  and  bespattered  as  to  bear  scarcely  any 
resemblance  to  their  pristine  state  of  elegance. 
Mounted  on  scrubby  farm  horses,  guided  by 
rope  bridles,  they  were  filing  slowly  round  the 
corner  of  the  street,  when  a  cry,  clear  and 
sweet,  rang  out  on  the  crisp  morning  air, 
“Grandfather,  grandfather!”  Adrienne  stood 
with  arms  extended,  her  face  pale  with  excite¬ 
ment  and  grief.  But  her  voice  was  drowned 
by  the  jeers  of  a  tough  crowd  of  boys  follow¬ 
ing  the  procession,  who  were  crying  out  with 
loud  ha,  ha’s,  “Hurrah  for  the  silk-hat  bri¬ 
gade  !” 


Adrienne 


199 


Mr.  de  Courcelles,  at  once  comprehending  the 
state  of  affairs,  after  a  low  spoken  order  to  the 
coachman,  gently  drew  the  agitated  girl  down 
beside  him,  and  tenderly  tried  to  soothe  her 
evident  distress.  Presently  she  dried  her  eyes, 
and  looked  pathetically  up  into  his  as  she  said, 
in  a  sad  strain, 

“It  seems  strange,  father,  those  grand  old 
men,  who  have  only  been  guilty  of  fidelity  to 
their  country,  should  have  had  to  suffer  such 
bitter  humiliation.” 

“Your  undying  faith  in  the  love  of  humanity 
must  have  received  a  shock  at  this  proceeding; 
but,  alas !  Adrienne,  war  is  a  great  leveller,  and 
at  such  times  distinctions  are  overlooked.  Per¬ 
haps  the  authorities  are  in  ignorance  of  what 
has  transpired;  at  any  rate,  you  must  not  let 
this  unhappy  episode  prey  upon  your  spirits. 
Your  grandfather  may  have  been  released.” 

Meanwhile,  unobserved  by  Adrienne,  the  car¬ 
riage  had  followed  slowly  after  the  procession, 
and  presently  drew  up  beside  a  railway  station. 
Mr.  de  Courcelles,  carefully  assisting  Adrienne 
out,  led  the  way  into  the  waiting-room,  where, 
to  her  surprise,  as  she  gave  a  hurried  glance 
round,  her  eyes  fell  on  her  grandfather,  who 
sat  a  little  apart  from  his  compatriots,  in  a  de¬ 
jected  attitude,  apparently  taking  no  notice  of 
his  surroundings.  Adrienne  took  her  father’s 
hand  and  resolutely  drew  him  with  her,  mak- 


200 


Adrienne 


ing  no  sign  of  the  emotion  that  swept  through 
her  young  heart  as  she  bent  over  and  greeted 
him  affectionately. 

“Grandfather,”  she  said,  raising  her  voice, 
for  he  was  rather  hard  of  hearing,  “I  have 
brought  my  father  to  see  you  before  he  leaves.” 

Raising  his  head  with  a  tired,  worn  look  on 
his  face,  Mr.  Stanley’s  features  lighted  up  with 
a  smile  as  he  held  out  a  trembling  hand  and 
said  in  a  weak,  quavering  voice, 

“I  am  glad  to  span  the  chasm  of  years  by  a 
reconciling  clasp  of  your  hand,  Mr.  de  Cour- 
celles.  I  am  truly  glad  to  see  you,  even  though 
you  should  find  me  in  so  humiliating  a  posi¬ 
tion  at  present.  But,  tell  me,  are  you  taking 
Adrienne  away  from  me?” 

A  sudden  look  of  determination  had  sprung 
into  Adrienne’s  eyes. 

“No,  grandfather,”  she  answered  firmly, 
“having  this  moment  thought  of  your  condi¬ 
tion  in  the  absence  of  Belle  to  aid  and  accom¬ 
pany  you,  I  cannot  decide  to  leave  you  until  she 
is  sufficiently  recovered  to  take  her  place  at 
home.” 

Her  father  was  struck  dumb  by  this  declara¬ 
tion,  and  as  she  glanced  into  his  white  face, 
she  was  almost  staggered  in  her  resolution. 
Moving  near  to  him,  she  said,  in  low,  distressed 
tones, 


Adrienne 


201 


“You  must  not  feel  so  disappointed,  father. 
For  when  you  think  of  it,  what  else  can  I  do? 
It  would  not  be  right  to  shirk  my  plain  duty  so. 
When  I  shall  have  joined  you — only  a  little 
time  off — my  conscience  will  not  be  burdened 
with  the  sting  of  self-reproach.  Yet,  oh !  father, 
you  cannot  understand  how  unspeakably  I 
yearn  to  go  with  you.’' 

Restraining  his  annoyance  by  a  huge  effort, 
Mr.  de  Courcelles  replied, 

“When  I  have  been  longing  these  many  years 
to  have  you  with  me,  Adrienne,  must  I  leave 
you  behind  after  all?  You  are  a  brave  girl, 
and  as  I  will  not  stand  in  the  way  of  your 
sacred  duty,  I  shall  try  and  bear  our  short  sep¬ 
aration  as  patiently  as  possible.”  He  held  out 
his  hand  to  the  old  gentleman,  who  grasped  it 
readily  with  a  friendly  clasp. 

“It  is  Adrienne’s  final  decision  to  remain 
with  you,  Mr.  Stanley,  to  which  I  have  given 
my  consent,  until  Miss  Conrad  is  restored  to 
health,  and  her  usual  place  beside  you.  I  am 
sorry  to  hurry  away,  but  having  a  pressing- 
business  engagement  waiting  me  in  Paris,  I 
cannot  afford  to  delay  my  departure.  Good- 
by,  Mr.  Stanley ;  I  hope  Miss  Conrad  may  soon 
be  with  you,  fully  recovered,  and  that  it  will 
not  be  long  before  I  can  welcome  Adrienne  to 
her  Eastern  home.” 


202 


Adrienne 


Taking  Adrienne  in  his  arms  and  kissing  her 
repeatedly,  suddenly  releasing  her,  he  walked 
away,  never  once  looking  back ;  while  Adrienne, 
with  almost  superhuman  strength  of  will,  was 
resisting  the  great  wave  of  despondency  and 
sorrow  sweeping  over  her  soul. 

But  she  was  unconscious  of  the  Spartan 
courage  she  had  shown  in  renouncing,  even  for 
a  short  while,  a  happy  home  with  her  father  in 
the  exquisite  land  of  the  East,  in  exchange  for 
a  retired  life  on  a  deserted  plantation,  subject 
to  the  whims  and  garrulity  of  old  age. 

Adrienne  was  standing  a  little  apart  from 
her  grandfather,  silently  observing  the  comers 
and  goers  passing  in  the  waiting-room,  when  a 
call  from  him  drew  her  to  his  side. 

“Come,  Adrienne,  sit  beside  me.  I  want  to 
say,  that  since  I  have  seen  your  father  with  un¬ 
prejudiced  eyes,  I  have  awakened  to  the  fact 
that  he  is  not  only  an  exceedingly  fascinating 
man,  but  princely  in  his  bearing.  And  I  have 
noticed,  my  child,  that  you  have  inherited  his 
low,  musical  laugh  and  voice.” 


CHAPTER  XXV 


As  time  moved  on,  Adrienne’s  heart  was 
saddened  by  the  increasing  feebleness  of  her 
grandfather’s  step.  The  whiteness  of  his  hair, 
if  possible,  became  more  bleached  every  day, 
while  his  features  settled  into  lines  of  patient 
endurance,  and  his  form  seemed  to  grow  more 
attenuated  and  drooping.  It  was  touching  to 
see  the  old  gentleman  stand  on  the  veranda  and 
gaze  wistfully  over  his  broad  domain,  where, 
instead  of  green  fields,  weeds  now  flourished 
undisturbed,  and  complete  desolation  reigned. 

The  loneliness  was  depressing,  but  the  girl 
endured  it  all  without  thought  of  complaint. 
At  nightfall,  instead  of  the  brilliantly  illumi¬ 
nated  sky  from  the  many  fires  in  the  Union 
camp,  as  formerly,  a  death-like  stillness  pre¬ 
vailed,  broken  only  by  the  wailing  note  of  the 
whippoorwill,  and  occasional  hoot  of  the  night 
owl. 

But  the  woods  by  light  of  day  attested  by 
their  gorgeous  array  of  wild  flowers  and  fresh 
green  leaves  the  return  of  spring. 

The  struggle  between  the  two  sections  had 
now  become  a  continuous  flame  of  shot  and 
shell.  The  Confederate  army  now  staggering 


204 


Adrienne 


under  its  stupendous  losses,  Mr.  Stanley 
could  no  longer  blind  himself  to  the  truth  that 
the  end  was  swiftly  approaching  in  overwhelm¬ 
ing  defeat.  Alas !  the  star  of  the  South  must 
go  down  behind  a  murky  horizon  of  vanquished 
hopes  and  the  ascending  smoke  of  desolated 
homes. 

At  the  announcement  of  the  surrender  at 
Appomattox,  Mr.  Stanley  bowed  his  head, 
closed  his  lips,  and  seeking*  the  gloom  of  his  pri¬ 
vate  study,  sat  down  in  silence  to  weep  over  the 
grave  of  his  crushed  spirit,  personal  liberty,  and 
political  rights.  His  manifest  despair  enlisted 
all  the  sympathy  and  love  of  which  Adrienne’s 
tender  heart  was  capable.  But  she  could  not 
persuade  herself  to  intrude  upon  the  sacred¬ 
ness  of  his  self-imposed  seclusion.  Thus  left 
entirely  to  herself,  she  had  ample  time  to 
reflect  upon  the  calamity  that  had  so  ruth¬ 
lessly  befallen  the  beautiful  South.  But  under 
the  trying  ordeal  she  was  not  unmindful  of  the 
fact  that  it  behooved  her  to  encourage  as  cheer¬ 
ful  a  frame  of  mind  as  possible.  Yet,  as  day 
succeeded  day,  and  there  was  no  change  in  the 
weary  passing  hours,  a  condition  was  created 
so  depressing,  that  even  upon  the  hands  of  so 
philosophical  a  young  lady  as  Adrienne  de 
Courcelles,  the  time  began  to  hang  unspeakably 
heavy.  As  a  relief  from  the  solitary  rooms  of 
the  great  empty  house,  late  one  afternoon 


Adrienne 


205 


Adrienne  strolled  out  on  the  river  bank.  She 
was  dressed  in  white,  a  cluster  of  deep  red  roses 
at  her  belt.  Discovering  a  boat  rolling  at  its 
moorings  in  the  shadow  of  some  bushes,  sud¬ 
denly  the  temptation  came  to  her  to  take  a  row, 
merely  as  a  diversion  from  her  accustomed 
meditative  moods.  Taking  up  the  oar,  in  a 
moment  she  was  as  comfortably  installed  as 
possible  on  a  board  seat,  minus  a  dainty  silk 
cushion,  or  even  rug  to  put  about  her,  and  push¬ 
ing  off  from  shore,  she  began  to  move  gently 
along,  drifting  between  the  banks  down  the 
quiet  flowing  water.  This  experience  in  the 
glory  of  the  evening  on  the  silent  river  she 
would  remember  to  her  dying  day.  The  beauty 
of  the  forest  and  sweetness  of  everything  was 
a  tonic  to  her  downcast  spirits.  So  rapt  was 
she,  so  nearly  in  a  dream,  she  was  but  vaguely 
conscious  of  the  approach  of  a  horseman  now 
clearly  outlined  against  the  brilliant  sky,  when, 
upon  a  nearer  view,  his  figure  seemed  strangely 
familiar.  A  curious  sensation  rushed  into  her 
heart  as,  having  caught  sight  of  the  graceful 
white  figure  in  the  boat,  thrown  into  clear  relief 
against  the  green  on  the  opposite  bank,  he 
paused  and  dismounted.  He  lifted  his  hat, 
showing  his  noble  head,  and  handsome  face, 
saying,  as  he  bowed  low, 


206 


Adrienne 


“Will  not  Miss  de  Courcelles,  for  old  ac¬ 
quaintance’s  sake,  remove  this  watery  barrier, 
that  one  may  have  the  pleasure  of  shaking  her 
hand  after  a  long  absence?” 

She  laughed,  making  droll  little  gestures 
toward  the  oars  in  her  unskilled  maneuvers  to 
land.  Nevertheless,  in  a  few  moments  she  was 
holding  out  the  oar,  which  he  caught  in  time 
to  save  her  from  a  sudden  tumble  in.  Drawing 
the  boat  safely  ashore,  he  took  her  ungloved 
hand  in  his,  assisting  her  out,  as  he  said,  with  a 
little  tremor  in  his  voice,  while  her  cheek 
flushed,  and  her  heart  seemed  to  stop  beating 
as  he  rested  his  splendid  eyes  upon  hers, 

“Fortune  has  indeed  favored  me  beyond  my 
most  sanguine  expectation.” 

“Ah,  Colonel  Strafford,  though  late,  I  must 
congratulate  you  upon  your  marvelous  escape 
that  memorable  morning,”  she  quickly  said,  her 
heart  thrilling  even  at  memory  of  the  time. 

His  eyes  darkened  with  a  shadow  of  sorrow 
that  changed  the  smile  into  a  look  of  unusual 
gravity  on  his  face. 

“It  seems  wonderful,”  he  said,  “one’s  powers 
of  endurance.  But  I  have  not  regretted, 
through  it  all,  my  share  of  suffering  through 
the  ordeal.  Could  the  South  have  dominated 
the  situation,  I  should  have  felt  doubly  repaid. 
But  now  it  will  undergo  an  entire  change, 
socially  and  industrially,  and  as  yet  there  is  not 


Adrienne 


207 


one  ray  of  hope  to  cheer  the  hearts  of  the  people. 
How  is  your  grandfather  surviving  the  blow  ?” 

“Alas !  he  is  utterly  crushed,”  shaking  her 
head  and  sighing.  “I  am  afraid  his  troubles  are 
just  beginning.  The  plantation  is  deserted, 
with  the  exception  of  Caleb  and  Hannah,  who 
alone  have  been  able  to  resist  the  alluring  sweets 
of  freedom,  and  make  a  bold  front  of  clinging 
to  the  usual  routine.  While  I  have  been  but 
partially  successful  in  ameliorating  grand¬ 
father's  distress  and  loneliness,  I  am  conscious 
of  not  taking  the  place  of  Miss  Conrad,  to 
whom  he  is  devotedly  attached,  but  who  is  not 
yet  sufficiently  recovered  to  risk  a  return  to  the 
landmarks  so  keenly  associated  with  the  cause 
of  her  illness/' 

During  the  conversation  they  had  seated 
themselves  on  a  fallen  tree,  where  the  river 
rippled  by.  The  beautiful  girl,  whose  eyes  were 
so  indescribably  fascinating,  harmonized  per¬ 
fectly  with  the  romantic  spot. 

“I  have  come  back  to  tell  you  of  my  love,  and 
ask  you  to  be  my  wife,”  he  said  suddenly.  “I 
think  we  have  realized  from  the  first  that  we 
belong  to  each  other.  Are  you  willing  to  give 
yourself  to  me?”  His  voice  was  deep  and  ten¬ 
der,  sending  a  current  of  blissful  happiness  into 
every  fibre  of  her  soul  as  she  raised  her  eyes  to 
his,  luminous  from  the  reflection  of  their  great 
love  for  him,  and  gave  her  hand  into  his  keep- 


208 


Adrienne 


ing.  He  was  conscious  of  beauty’s  enchanting 
power  as  he  bent  his  head  close  to  hers,  and  in 
low,  winning  tones  asked, 

“Are  you  happy,  my  darling,  in  trusting  your 
entire  future  to  me?” 

“Perfectly,”  she  answered  frankly.  He 
stooped,  and  kissed  the  sweet,  trembling  lips. 

The  red  glow  from  the  setting  sun  had  grad¬ 
ually  faded  away  into  semi-darkness,  when 
Adrienne  suddenly  sprang  to  her  feet,  exclaim¬ 
ing  hurriedly, 

“See,  Colonel  Strafford,  how  late  it  is  grow¬ 
ing.  Grandfather  will  be  anxious.  You  will 
come  by  and  see  him?” 

“I  regret,  little  one,  that  I  cannot  comply 
with  your  invitation  so  sweetly  given.  But,  in 
answer  to  an  urgent  call,  I  am  now  on  my  way 
to  England,  and  must  not  lose  any  time.  In 
the  mean  time,  my  darling,  we  shall  have  our 
happiness  to  cheer  us  during  a  brief  separation, 
which  must  be  the  only  drop  of  bitterness  that 
shall  fall  into  our  cup  of  bliss.” 

The  quick,  pained  look  in  the  lovely  eyes  told 
him  of  the  regret  she  felt  at  his  goinp\  But, 
though  her  lips  quivered,  she  resolved  to  be 
brave,  and  as  they  reached  the  little  side  gate 
leading  into  the  grounds,  Colonel  Strafford  felt 
forced  to  tear  himself  from  the  presence  of  the 
dainty,  lovely  girl  at  his  side,  who,  from  excess 
of  emotion,  could  not  frame  a  sentence  on  her 


Adrienne 


209 


lips  in  farewell,  but  stood  a  moment  where  he 
had  left  her  in  the  sweet  scented  twilight, 
straining  her  eyes,  as  she  unconsciously 
stretched  out  her  hands  toward  him,  to  catch  the 
last  glimpse  of  his  figure  as  his  horse  carried 
him  swiftly  into  the  dusky  shadows  of  the  trees. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


Adrienne  paused  upon  one  of  the  tangled 
paths  in  her  grandfather’s  neglected  flower- 
garden.  On  her  arm  hung  a  basket  of  freshly 
cut  roses,  on  whose  petals  the  morning  dew- 
drops  now  sparkled  in  prismatic  colors.  While 
seeming  to  gaze  abstractedly  at  the  many  bril¬ 
liant  butterflies  flitting  from  bush  to  bush  sip¬ 
ping  their  morning  libations  of  honey-dew,  as 
they  settled  down  now  and  then  waving  yellow 
and  variegated  wings,  in  reality  she  was  pon¬ 
dering  over  the  happy  anticipation  of  soon  see¬ 
ing  Colonel  Strafford,  who  would  be  in  the 
United  States  at  an  early  date.  Besides,  there 
was  another  impetus  to  pleasant  meditation 
from  a  recent  communication  of  Kittie’s,  an¬ 
nouncing  the  fact  that  she  might  be  expected  at 
any  hour. 

Her  basket  now  filled  with  exquisitely  col¬ 
ored  and  fragrant  roses,  Adrienne  turned  away 
from  the  garden,  moving  with  easy  graceful 
step  toward  the  veranda,  where  she  seated  her¬ 
self,  proceeding,  with  a  glad  song  in  her  heart, 
to  select  and  arrange  them  for  the  different 
vases,  and  had  nearly  completed  the  delightful 
task,  when  her  glance  was  attracted  to  the  broad 


Adrienne 


211 


graveled  drive  by  the  sudden  noise  of  wheels, 
and  the  next  moment  a  young  lady  stepped  out 
of  a  closed  carriage,  shrouded  in  deep  mourn¬ 
ing,  whose  familiar  figure  and  little  trick  of 
manner  betrayed  to  Adrienne  her  dearly  loved 
friend  Kittie  McVea. 

“Oh,  Adrienne,”  cried  Kittie,  rushing  up  to 
her  in  the  old  impulsive  way  remembered  so 
well  by  Adrienne,  “your  dear  letter  came  to  me 
as  a  welcome  boon,  for  I  had  nearly  despaired  at 
the  unspeakable  monotony  of  my  life.” 

“We  have  had  a  sad  end  to  all  our  buoyant 
hopes,”  said  Adrienne,  gravely;  “but,  as  it  is 
irremediable,  it  behooves  us  to  acquiesce  quiet¬ 
ly,  leaving  everything  in  the  hands  of  One  who 
has  said  we  must  trust  in  Him  alone.” 

“Ah,  do  I  not  remember  well,”  laughed  Kit¬ 
tie,  the  old  merry  sparkle  in  her  sweet  blue  eyes, 
“that  a  disposition  always  to  look  on  the  bright 
side  of  things  is  one  of  the  most  striking  char¬ 
acteristics  of  Miss  de  Courcelles’s  equable 
nature  ?  But,  I  must  say,  for  my  part,  that  hav¬ 
ing  made  up  my  mind  to  eschew  the  marriage 
state — the  idea  of  settling  down  into  a  common¬ 
place  character,  to  live  only  for  a  husband  and 
household  duties  not  at  all  to  my  fancy, — I  have 
resolved  to  leave  this  Vale  of  tears’  and  travel 
to  some  distant  mission  point,  perhaps  in  far 
away  India,  and  there  devote  my  time  to  the 
benighted  heathens,  and  try  and  teach  them  the 


212 


Adrienne 


doctrine  of  humanity,  at  least,  at  the  same  time 
fill  up  my  life  usefully  if  not  ornamentally.” 

“Do  you  know,  Kittie,”  said  Adrienne,  seem¬ 
ing  to  have  had  a  sudden  inspiration,  “I  have 
just  thought  of  a  most  delightful  as  well  as 
feasible  plan,  that  will  give  you  ample  field  to 
indulge  your  philanthropic  schemes,  and  will 
give  to  me  the  happiness  of  your  companion¬ 
ship.  I  propose  that  you  will  go  home  with  me, 
as  some  blessed  star  will  soon  be  guiding  me 
to  the  heathen  land  of  the  East,  in  which,  you 
know,  my  tent  is  already  pitched.” 

“Do  you  really  mean  it,  Adrienne?  You 
know  so  well  how  delighted  I  should  be  to  go 
with  you.”  And  Kittie’s  face  dimpled  all  over 
with  sunny  pleasure  at  the  mere  thought  of  it. 

They  were  seated  at  one  of  the  handsome 
windows  in  Adrienne’s  room,  overlooking  a 
summer  landscape  radiant  in  its  beauty. 

“I  am  certain,  Kittie,”  Adrienne  suddenly 
said,  “you  remember  the  gallant  officer  to  whom 
I  introduced  you  upon  the  morning  of  your 
visit  to  Mrs.  Willesly’s.  I  had  planned  a  sweet 
little  romance  connecting  your  destiny  with  that 
of  Lieutenant  Belden's.  But,  alas,  subsequent 
sudden  and  unexpected  happenings  exploded  all 
my  air  castles  like  soap  bubbles.  And  do  you 
know,  Kittie,  from  the  tragic  morning  upon 
which  we  separated,  to  the  present  time,  I  have 
not  heard  a  syllable  from  him.” 


Adrienne 


213 


“Then/’  said  Kittie,  quickly,  with  a  gleam 
of  fun  in  her  eyes,  “you  are  not  aware  that  upon 
that  same  day  of  which  you  speak,  upon  the  re¬ 
treat  from  the  river,  Lieutenant  Belden  was  so 
severely  wounded  that  he  was  sent  to  my 
father's  house  for  timely  attention.  I  am  sorry 
to  have  to  say,  Adrienne,  that  your  cunningly 
devised  plans  in  regard  to  myself  were  wide  of 
the  mark,  which  I  have  occasion  to  know  from 
whisperings  through  his  parched  lips  during 
his  feverish  ravings  of  a  certain  ‘oriental  lily,' 
whose  ‘dusky,  dreamy  eyes’  were  luring  him 
on  to  a  certain  paradisiacal  state  of  delight.  I 
confess  that,  taking  umbrage  at  even  his  uncon¬ 
scious  babblings,  I  mercilessly  turned  him  over, 
with  his  rhapsodies,  to  the  more  considerate, 
tender  care  of  my  stepmother.”  And  Kittie 
gave  way  to  a  merry  laugh. 

Cheerful  company  revived  Adrienne’s  flag¬ 
ging  spirits,  that  had  been  suffering  from  too 
much  solitude.  The  time  glided  by  with  sur¬ 
prising  rapidity.  Even  after  supper,  not  yet 
having  exhausted  their  budget  of  innocent  gos¬ 
sip,  they  repaired  to  the  veranda,  and  after  the 
manner  of  girls  began  to  promenade  as  they 
continued  the  same  lively  chatter.  There  was 
no  moon,  but  the  brightly  shining  stars  in  the 
cloudless  heavens  seemed  to  have  wrapped  the 
earth  in  the  shadow  of  twilight,  and  the  air  was 
pervaded  with  a  sweetness  like  midsummer. 


214 


Adrienne 


But  suddenly  the  young  ladies  were  startled  to  a 
standstill  by  an  unearthly  shriek  of  an  owl 
close  by. 

“Ah!”  cried  Kittie,  drawing  a  long  breath, 
“that  is  a  gruesome  omen.  Old  Mammy  Jude 
at  home,  who  is  an  oracle  in  such  like,  would 
solemnly  proclaim  some  one  is  to  die  in  this 
house.” 

“For  shame,  Kittie !”  Adrienne  retorted,  with 
laughing  scorn,  “that  a  girl  of  your  sense 
should  conjure  up  a  bogy  out  of  an  every-day 
owl.  It  is  too  absurd,  and  past  believing.” 

“When  it  comes  to  that spoke  up  Kittie, 
quickly,  “will  you  show  me  a  Southerner  who, 
from  early  association  with  negroes,  is  not  just 
a  little  bit  superstitious?  While  I  feel  free  to 
confess,  that  I  find  their  superstition  quite  a 
picturesque  feature  of  the  negro  race.” 

“Kittie,”  smiled  Adrienne,  ironically,  “your 
argument  is  impressive  and  logical.” 

Notwithstanding  Kittie’s  scarecrow,  the  two 
girls,  tired  and  sleepy  from  their  extra  exertion 
during  the  day,  undisturbed  by  night-winged 
spectre,  goblin,  or  ghost,  weird  and  unearthly 
and  a  part  of  night’s  mystery,  peacefully  slum¬ 
bered  on. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


“Miss  Adr’en,  Miss  Adr’en!”  was  the  call 
that  roused  Adrienne  out  of  a  deep  sleep  the 
next  morning.  “Is  you  awake?” 

“Yes,  Hannah;  what  is  it?” 

“Ole  marster  ’pears  mighty  po’ly  dis  mornin’, 
an’  Caleb  sez  mils’  he  go  fur  de  doctor?” 

“Yes,  Hannah,  tell  him  not  to  lose  a  mo¬ 
ment,  but  go  at  once And  springing  out  of 
bed,  Adrienne  dressed  rapidly,  then  flew  down 
to  the  library  and  dashed  off  a  message  to  Mrs. 
Vincent,  to  be  sent  by  Caleb  to  the  telegraph 
office.  Then  going  to  her  grandfather’s  rooms, 
and  finding  him  in  a  stupor,  she  was  inexpres¬ 
sibly  shocked.  But  despite  the  solicitous 
efforts,  and  prompt  application  of  remedies 
made  to  rouse  him,  Mr.  Stanley  grew  steadily 
worse,  and  as  the  night  was  closing  in,  his  soul 
passed  out  of  its  earthly  tenement  into  the  mys¬ 
terious  state  of  the  Eternal. 

But  that  her  grandfather  had  not  rallied 
sufficiently  to  recognize  her,  nor  to  leave  any 
message  behind,  seemed  to  Adrienne  inexpres¬ 
sibly  sad.  She  was  thinking  of  the  mystery  of 
death  hidden  from  mortal  eye,  of  the  great 
forces  beyond  this  scene  of  things,  and  of  her 


216 


Adrienne 


grandfather’s  fleeing  spirit,  when  the  doctor 
came  up  behind  her  and  addressed  her, 

“Miss  de  Courcelles,  with  great  care,  your 
grandfather  perhaps  could  have  lasted  much 
longer,  even  with  organic  heart  trouble,  of 
which  he  died.  But  the  strain  of  mind  and  ex¬ 
cessive  worry  over  the  issue  of  the  war,  alto¬ 
gether,  has  produced  the  sad  result.  His  many 
friends  will  miss  him  and  mourn  his  death. 
Mr.  Stanley  had  a  remarkable  personality,  and 
was  looked  up  to  and  respected  bv  all  who  knew 
him.” 

The  time,  for  Adrienne,  had  she  not  been 
taken  up  with  these  unanswerable,  intangible 
questions,  with  which  she  never  before  had  been 
in  contact,  would  have  been  inexpressibly 
dreary. 

Softly  the  neighbors  came  and  went,  not  a 
voice  was  heard  to  disturb  the  solemn  hush  of 
death. 

Adrienne’s  lovely  face  was  grave  and  sor¬ 
rowful,  but  not  unresigned.  She  was  the  only 
relative  present  at  the  funeral.  Kittie  was  be¬ 
side  her  friend,  all  sympathy  and  affection,  but 
felt  utterly  unable  to  aid  or  cheer  at  such  a 
time. 

On  their  return  to  the  great  empty  house, 
now  wrapped  in  unspeakable  gloom,  they  sat 
down  silently  together,  while  Adrienne  now 


Adrienne 


217 


stared  the  fact  in  the  face  that  her  tender  minis¬ 
trations  to  her  grandfather  were  forever  over. 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  wheels  on  the  graveled 
drive  broke  in  upon  the  brooding  silence  hover¬ 
ing  over  the  two  occupants  of  the  hall.  Secretly 
relieved,  Kittie  rose  and  moved  to  the  window, 
at  once  turning  to  Adrienne  and  saying, 

“A  lady  is  coming  up  the  walk.” 

The  next  moment  Mrs.  Vincent  was  ushered 
in.  She  walked  directly  up  to  Adrienne,  and 
after  kissing  the  girl  with  loving  sympathy,  she 
said, 

UI  wish  I  could  comfort  you,  dear  child,  in 
this  sudden  trouble,  and  would  have  been  with 
you  at  the  beginning  of  your  sad  experience  had 
it  been  possible  for  me  to  leave  Belle,  who  was 
again  prostrated  by  the  news  of  her  grand¬ 
father’s  death,  which  struck  her  like  a  blow,  just 
as  she  was  beginning  to  slowly  improve.” 

“I  hope  the  shock  will  not  prove  serious. 
Meanwhile,  it  will  take  time  to  overcome  her 
sorrow.  Come,  Kittie,”  said  Adrienne,  smiling 
sweetly.  “Mrs.  Vincent,  this  is  Miss  McVea, 
my  dear  friend,  who,  fortunately,  has  been  with 
me,  so  sweet  and  sympathetic.” 

“I  am  prepared  to  welcome  cordially  all  your 
friends,  Adrienne,”  said  Mrs.  Vincent,  as  she 
took  Kittie’ s  hand  and  flashed  upon  her  a  warm, 
gracious  smile  of  greeting. 


218 


Adrienne 


“Mrs.  Vincent,”  said  Adrienne,  “you  are  so 
kind  to  come  to  us  in  our  distress.  I  am  sure  I 
feel  for  you  the  tenderest  love  and  gratitude.” 

“It  is  nothing.  I  am  glad  to  have  been  able 
to  come,  even  at  this  late  hour.  But,  Adrienne, 
I  have  a  proposal  to  make.  It  is  my  wish,  since 
it  will  not  be  good  for  you  two  young  ladies  to 
remain  alone  in  this  great  house,  as  you  not 
only  would  be  moped  to  death,  but  would  grow 
morbid  and  sensitive,  that  you  return  with  me 
to  Washington.  Get  ready,  for  we  must  start 
at  once.” 

Adrienne's  face  lighted  up  at  this  proof  of 
disinterested  friendship,  giving  most  earnest, 
appreciative  thanks.  Though  for  months  past 
Adrienne’s  life  had  been  one  of  sacrifice,  she 
clung  fondly  to  the  memory  of  her  grandfather, 
whose  sad  end  had  filled  her  with  inexplicable 
sorrow  and  pity.  She  strove,  however,  to  con¬ 
ceal  her  distress  from  Kittie’s  ever-watchful 
eyes,  but  the  unconscious  sadness  plainly  writ¬ 
ten  upon  her  sweet  face,  Kittie  had  not  failed 
to  observe. 

One  morning,  when  they  had  been  in  Wash¬ 
ington  for  a  short  while,  Adrienne  said  sud¬ 
denly  to  Kittie, 

“What  are  we  waiting  for,  Kittie  ?  No  longer 
any  impediment  in  our  way,  I  propose  to  sail 
for  home.” 


Adrienne 


219 


This  question,  for  which  Kittie  had  been 
anxiously  waiting,  was  a  genuine  relief,  as  she 
was  anxious  to  get  away  for  a  while  from  her 
native  land,  which  held  such  bitter  memories  in 
the  death  of  her  father,  and  a  disintegrated 
home.  A  message,  accordingly,  was  despatched 
to  Mr.  de  Courcelles  to  expect  them  at  an  early 
day.  So  they  set  to  work  with  a  will  to  make 
preparations  for  their  journey. 

“Do  you  know,  Adrienne,”  said  Kittie,  “the 
thought  is  running  through  my  mind  of  what  a 
life  of  self-renunciation  you  have  been  living 
lately,  chained  to  the  fancies  of  an  aged  grand¬ 
father,  while,  even  now,  you  are  but  hurrying 
forward  to  meet  the  demands  of  an  invalid 
father,  and  minister  again  to  declining  age.” 

The  first  approach  to  mirth,  since  her  be¬ 
reavement,  flashed  over  Adrienne’s  features,  as 
she  darted  a  look  into  Kittie’s  unconscious  face, 
but  made  no  reply. 

Every  plausible  argument  to  persuade  them 
from  their  purpose  Mrs.  Vincent  sought  to  use. 

“Dear  Mrs.  Vincent,  I  am  so  grateful  for  all 
your  kindness,  but  I  feel  sure  my  father  would 
not  approve  of  my  delaying  any  longer  my  re¬ 
turn  home,”  said  Adrienne,  sweetly  earnest. 
In  the  mean  time,  Mr.  Strafford’s  letters  had 
been  frequent,  each  one  repeating  the  declara¬ 
tion  of  his  love  and  devotion.  He  dreamed  of 
nothing  else  beyond  the  fact  that  she  had  con- 


220 


Adrienne 


fessed  her  love,  and  that  she  now  belonged  to 
him.  Once  he  dwelt  upon  the  hour  in  which  he 
had  last  seen  her  sitting  in  the  midst  of  beauty 
stretching  to  right  and  left,  while  the  golden 
light  of  the  sun  crested  the  hills  around,  and  the 
water  made  music  as  it  rippled  by.  Adrienne’s 
next  letter  to  him  was  an  explanation  of  the 
cause  of  her  sudden  departure  from  America, 
expressing  her  deep  regret  at  not  being  able  to 
await  his  return  to  Washington.  But  the  an¬ 
nouncement  that  he  was  expected  to  return  in 
company  with  Lieutenant  Havelock  almost 
caused  her  to  waver  in  her  resolution. 

Miss  Conrad  was  yet  critically  ill,  but  hope 
was  brighter  for  her  final  recovery. 

On  the  register  of  the  next  out-going  liner 
the  names  Adrienne  de  Courcelles  and  Kittie 
Lester  Me  Yea  were  plainly  written. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


After  a  delightful  voyage,  Kittie  was 
awakened  early  in  the  morning  by  the  excessive 
sense  of  the  intense  silence  and  hush  of  every¬ 
thing.  There  was  felt  no  more  rolling  of  the 
ship,  nor  was  there  any  dark  smoke  belching 
from  her  funnels,  for  the  throbs  of  the  great 
engine  were  still. 

“Surely,”  thought  Kittie,  now  sitting  up  in 
bed  and  rubbing  her  eyes,  “we  are  at  anchor.” 
And  unable  to  withstand  the  impulse  of  curi¬ 
osity  that  assailed  her,  springing  nimbly  to  her 
feet,  she  hurried  through  her  toilet,  though  she 
made  one  of  unusual  care,  then  glided  noise¬ 
lessly  from  the  stateroom,  leaving  Adrienne  to 
the  undisturbed  enjoyment  of  a  morning  nap. 
Making  her  way  to  the  deck,  suddenly  the  de¬ 
lights  of  an  Eastern  harbor,  in  all  its  resplend¬ 
ent  beauty,  spread  its  enchantment  before  her 
eyes.  She  looked  across  the  glittering  blue  of 
the  sea,  to  the  waving  palms  in  the  distance,  all 
of  which  filled  her  soul  with  a  rapt  sense  of 
delight. 

But  as  her  eyes  now  fell  on  the  boats  coming 
out  to  the  steamer,  and  seeing  no  one  whom 
she  could  decide  was  Mr.  de  Courcelles,  a  little 


222 


Adrienne 


disappointed,  she  turned  and  went  back  to  the 
salon,  encountering,  as  she  entered,  a  tall,  ele¬ 
gant-looking  stranger,  a  modern,  self-possessed 
man  of  the  world. 

“I  beg  your  pardon,”  she  said  eagerly,  ‘'but 
if  you  have  just  arrived  perhaps  you  can  tell  me 
whether  or  not  an  old  gentleman  is  among  the 
crowd  in  the  boats  ?  My  friend  is  expecting  her 
father  to  meet  us.” 

Lifting  his  hat,  as  his  eyes  lighted  up  with 
smiling  interest,  the  stranger  bowed  and  said, 

“Pardon  me,  but  have  I  not  the  pleasure  of 
addressing  Miss  McVea?  While  I  am  under 
the  necessity  of  having  to  own  that  I  am  the 
venerable  gentleman  of  whom  Miss  McVea  is 
in  quest.” 

She  flashed  a  startled,  wondering  look  at 
him,  as  she  stammered  forth, 

“Impossible!  Surely,  you  are  not  Mr.  de 
Courcelles?”  A  look  of  keen  amusement  was 
in  his  eyes  as  she  hurried  on.  “Adrienne’s 
father,  I  remember,  is  a  confirmed  invalid,  so 
old  and  feeble  that  he  is  forced  to  reside  in  the 
salubrious  climate  of  Egypt,  where  alone  he  can 
move  and  have  his  being.”  But  he  could  not 
resist  the  merry  gleam  that  shot  from  her  eyes 
as  she  now  glanced  up  into  his. 

“As  a  matter  of  fact,”  he  answered,  and  his 
voice  was  low  and  sweet,  “Miss  McVea  ex¬ 
pected  to  see  an  octogenarian — quite  the  imper- 


Adrienne 


223 


sonation  of  palsied,  toothless  senility.  Is  it  not 
so?”  and  he  laughed.  Kittie  was  silent,  as 
though  reflecting  upon  an  answer  to  so 
obviously  an  embarrassing  question. 

“I  will  admit,”  she  said,  with  some  hesitancy, 
“that  I  received  the  impression  from  Adrienne 
at  school.”  But  happily,  Adrienne’s  appearance 
on  the  scene  spared  Kittie  the  embarrassment 
of  struggling  through  another  sentence,  soon 
forgetting  her  dilemma  in  watching  the  two, 
now  absorbed  in  themselves,  as  she  tried  to 
realize  the  relationship  between  them. 

When  the  brilliant  capital  of  Egypt,  in  all  its 
oriental  splendor,  swept  into  view,  Kittie’ s  vis¬ 
ion  was  truly  dazzled. 

“What  a  paradise!”  she  exclaimed,  in  the 
ecstasy  of  delight.  “Surely  one  could  look 
upon  this  glowing  picture  with  an  unending 
exclamation  of  rapture.  But,  see,  Adrienne, 
what  a  contrast  to  its  ancient  surroundings  is 
that  very  modern  equipage,  with  its  liveried 
coachman, — seemingly  so  out  of  place, — now 
coming  down  to  the  landing.” 

“It  is  really  true,  father,”  laughed  Adrienne, 
“that  this  warm-hearted  Kittie  would  vastly 
prefer  trudging  along  in  sandals,  in  sockless 
feet,  over  the  burning  sands,  to  carry  out  her 
idea  of  the  eternal  fitness  of  things.” 

Mr.  de  Courcelles  laughed  softly,  caressing 
the  careless,  charming  Kittie  with  his  dark  eyes 


224 


Adrienne 


as  he  assisted  her  into  this  same  liveried  turn¬ 
out!  Whereupon,  as  the  young  lady  took  her 
seat,  she  caught  her  breath,  lifting  her  eyes  in 
voiceless  apology,  as  she  mentally  registered  a 
vow  that  she  would  be  careful  in  future  to  hold 
her  precocious  tongue  after  this  imprudent  piece 
of  volubility  on  her  part. 

They  were  soon  bowling  over  a  lovely  boule¬ 
vard,  through  magnificent  tropical  trees, 
toward  Mr.  de  Courcelles’s  residence,  which 
they  found  sitting  in  a  grove  of  palm,  lemon  and 
orange  trees — in  the  midst  of  grounds  filled 
with  beauty  and  sweet  odors  intensely  delight¬ 
ing  the  eye.  Kittie,  whose  senses  were 
charmed,  had  the  gift  of  appreciating  color, 
which  belongs  alone  to  artistic  natures.  With  a 
healthy  brain  and  heart  her  love  of  beauty  had 
developed  her  perceptions  over  the  ordinary. 
She  was  enchanted  with  all  she  saw. 

In  darkened  apartments  the  young  ladies 
slept  off  their  fatigue,  and  when  the  late  after¬ 
noon  came  on,  and  they  were  drawn  to  the 
inviting  shade  and  cool  delight  of  the  veranda, 
Adrienne  appeared  dressed  in  sheer  white,  re¬ 
lieved  by  a  cluster  of  delicate  pink  flowers 
fastened  at  her  belt,  looking  incomparably 
lovely.  While  Kittie  added  beauty  and  bright¬ 
ness  to  the  picture  with  her  sparkling  dark  blue 
eyes  and  halo  of  glittering  hair  round  her 


Adrienne 


225 


charming  face.  Mr.  de  Courcelles,  as  he  sat 
near  smoking  a  cigar,  was  an  appreciative 
observer. 

“Do  you  know,  father,”  presently  said 
Adrienne,  smiling  down  on  him,  “I  feel  that  I 
shall  soon  grow  to  love  the  glow  of  this  ex¬ 
quisite  land,  and  am  beginning  already  to  feel 
quite  at  home.” 

“That  I  should  have  consented  to  be  separ¬ 
ated  from  you,  Adrienne,  has  been  a  great  mis¬ 
take.  I  realize  it  all  now.” 

“Yes,  but  we  must  learn  by  sad  experience. 
There  can  be  no  wise  reason,  however,  that  we 
should  worry  over  past  mistakes.” 

The  mixture  of  ceremonious  courtesy  with 
gentle  affection  that  marked  Mr.  de  Courcelles’s 
manner  toward  his  daughter  secretly  contrib¬ 
uted  to  Kittie’s  amusement.  While,  day  by 
day,  the  society  of  these  charming  young  ladies 
seemed  to  Mr.  de  Courcelles  all  that  was  needed 
to  make  life  perfect.  The  bewitching  harmony 
and  refinement  of  their  sweet  voices  and  cul¬ 
tured  manners  touched  his  heart  with  a  long¬ 
ing  after  happiness,  such  happiness  as  one 
knows  alone  in  domestic  life.  So,  when  it 
pleased  them  to  tax  his  gallantry,  he  was  found 
always  ready  and  willing  to  do  their  behest — 
even  to  go  with  them  wheresoever  their  fancy 
drifted,  unconsciously  developing,  by  the  proc¬ 
ess,  into  quite  a  society  man. 


226 


Adrienne 


There  was  something  strangely  fascinating 
to  Kittie  in  Mr.  de  Courcelles’s  personality. 
His  distinguished  bearing,  the  low  music  of 
his  voice,  were  irresistible.  She  had  never  met 
any  one  like  him.  She  was  conscious  of  a  thrill 
of  delight  running  through  her  soul  if  he  should 
speak.  Besides,  the  atmosphere  of  luxury  by 
which  she  was  surrounded  acted  with  magic 
effect. 

Once  she  placed  her  hand  upon  Adrienne’s 
shoulder,  laughing  merrily,  as  she  peeped  with 
mischief-loving  eyes  into  her  face,  and  said, 

“What  is  it,  Adrienne,  your  funny  little 
Egyptian  maid  calls  Mr.  de  Courcelles — The 
rich  howadji’  ?  And  I  am  sure  it  fits  him  down 
to  the  ground.  Do  you  know,  Adrienne,  I  am 
now  going  to  make  a  ridiculous  confession. 
Having  caught  the  impression  from  you  at 
school  that  your  father  was  old,  and  a  con¬ 
firmed  invalid,  you  can  imagine  my  profound 
surprise  when  he  presented  himself  before  us 
on  the  steamer  upon  our  arrival.”  And  Kittie 
gave  way  to  another  merry  peal  of  laughter. 

“Your  mistake  was  wholly  your  own,  Kittie. 
I  am  sure  I  had  no  intention  of  misleading 
you,”  said  Adrienne,  laughing  also. 

But  as  the  weeks  went  by  and  there  had  been 
no  communication  from  Colonel  Strafford,  the 
indescribable  pain  at  Adrienne’s  heart  stopped 
the  smiles  on  her  lips,  though  she  betrayed  in 


Adrienne 


227 


no  other  way  the  bitterness  she  was  suffering. 
Finally  making  up  her  mind  that  she  would  not 
cling  to  the  love  he  thought  so  lightly  of,  as 
day  succeeded  day,  she  firmly  endeavored  to 
put  it  out  of  her  heart  altogether.  And  never 
once  alluded  to  any  part  of  her  life  spent  in  the 
United  States. 

In  the  mean  time,  completely  taken  up  with 
her  own  thoughts  and  her  increasing  admira¬ 
tion  for  the  Orient,  Kittie  seemed  not  to  notice 
the  look  of  increasing  gravity  in  her  friend’s 
lovely  eyes,  but  was  heard  to  say  to  Adrienne 
in  her  usual  blithesome,  careless  manner, 

“If  this  is  the  land  of  the  heathen,  Adrienne, 
I  confess  I  am  awfully  in  love  with  heathendom. 
But  my  prophetic  soul  tells  me — all  things  hav¬ 
ing  an  end — that  a  change  is  coming  in  my  life, 
nolens  volens 

As  Kittie  had  repeatedly  remarked  that  the 
pleasure  craved  above  all  others  by  her  was  a 
sail  up  the  Nile,  a  picnic  excursion  on  a  native 
boat  was  agreed  upon.  Kittie’s  heart  was  on 
her  lips,  and  her  eyes  emitted  flashes  of  raptur¬ 
ous  delight,  as  they  drove  down  to  the  boat, 
which,  in  honor  of  Kittie,  was  flying  the  United 
States  flag. 

Soon  they  were  seated  together  on  deck 
under  the  protection  of  their  sunshades,  Mr.  de 
Courcelles  in  white  yachting  suit  and  cap,  the 
young  ladies  in  white  yachting  dresses  and 


228 


Adrienne 


caps,  making  a  fascinating  picture,  modern  in 
style  though  it  was.  The  boat  carried  them 
steadily  out  from  the  landing,  and  on,  and  as 
their  eyes  were  bent  toward  the  receding  domes 
and  spires  of  the  brilliant  oriental  city,  Adrienne 
turned  to  her  father  and  said, 

“Is  it  not  pleasant  to  glide  into  this  tranquil 
atmosphere,  where  nothing  is  heard  save  imagi¬ 
nary  whisperings  from  a  dead  past?” 

“Now,  Adrienne,”  Kittie  interposed  with  a 
laugh,  and  the  usual  gleam  of  mischief  in  her 
eyes,  “I  protest  against  prowling  among  petri¬ 
fied  mummies,  or  raking  into  the  sacred  ashes 
of  these  extinct  ancients,  or  conjuring  up  any 
of  their  unwilling  ghosts.  But  rather  let  us 
extract  all  the  enjoyment  possible  out  of  this 
day.  Think  of  the  felicity  of  sailing  to  a  lux¬ 
urious  October  breeze  on  the  historic  Nile.  The 
very  thought,  even,  suggests  a  feeling  of  unal¬ 
loyed  bliss.” 

At  the  dinner  hour  a  delicious  repast  was 
served  on  deck  under  the  flapping  awnings, 
which  was  gaily  discussed  by  the  laughing, 
chatting  trio,  after  which,  as  Mr.  de  Courcelles 
lounged  in  a  steamer  chair,  revelling  dreamily 
in  the  luxury  of  an  after-dinner  cigar,  he  re¬ 
marked  to  the  young  ladies, 

“As  Philae  is  the  destiny  of  every  modern 
tourist,  suppose  we  continue  our  voyage  as  far. 


Adrienne 


229 


Though  it  is  true  little  remains  of  its  ancient 
glory,  and  that  little  is  crumbling  fast.” 

For  an  instant  Kittie’s  heart  stood  still.  But 
Adrienne’s  reply  dashed  all  her  hopes  to  the 
ground. 

“As  we  are  not  tourists,  or  Egyptologists,  we 
can  defer  our  trip  until  we  are  more  in  the 
mood  for  exploring.” 

Kittie  groaned  in  spirit,  silently  looking  on 
at  the  gliding  landscape,  as  she  bemoaned  the 
fact  that  her  day’s  pleasure  must  so  soon  be 
over. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  as  they  came  into  the 
landing  at  Cairo,  conspicuous  among  the  new 
arrivals  was  a  steam  yacht,  flying  the  British 
colors.  Kittie,  the  first  to  notice  it,  cried  out 
in  irrepressible  tones  of  curiosity, 

“Llello  !  what  does  this  mean  ?  See,  what  a 
distinguished-looking  man.”  All  eyes  now 
were  bent  upon  two  men  standing  near  the 
water’s  edge  in  close  conversation. 

“I  know  the  British  consul,  but  the  other  is 
a  stranger,  and  evidently  a  new  arrival,”  Mr. 
de  Courcelles  remarked. 

As  our  little  crowd  came  on  shore,  the  Brit¬ 
ish  consul  advanced  to  meet  them,  followed  by 
the  stranger. 

“Mr.  de  Courcelles,  I  have  been  waiting  your 
arrival  to  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  my 
friend  Lord  Gilbert,  just  from  England.”  A 


230 


Adrienne 


cordial  handshaking-  followed.  But  as  Mr.  de 
Courcelles  presented  the  young  ladies,  Ad¬ 
rienne’s  white,  set  face  startled  him,  and  as  she 
still  avoided  his  glance,  naturally  he  began  to 
read  between  the  lines.  While  Kittie,  who  had 
been  quick  to  detect  the  scintillations  of  a  great 
joy  in  Lord  Gilbert’s  splendid  eyes,  felt  the 
very  air  was  permeated  with  mystery. 

Presently  Adrienne  said  in  low  tones  to  her 
father, 

“I  must  explain  that  I  have  just  sustained  a 
little  shock  of  surprise  in  having  discovered  in 
Lord  Gilbert  a  former  acquaintance,  known  in 
the  South  as  Colonel  Strafford,  a  Confederate 
officer.  ” 

“Good  gracious !”  Kittie  exclaimed  to  herself, 
“what  other  revelation  is  in  store  for  us?” 

The  parties  here  concerned  being  of  the  high¬ 
est  social  culture,  this  little  embarrassing  epi¬ 
sode  was  passed  over  with  exquisite  tact,  sub¬ 
siding  into  the  usual  well-bred  ease  that  ever 
characterizes  people  of  refined  circles.  Lord 
Gilbert  assisted  Adrienne  into  the  waiting 
brougham,  bending,  and  making  the  request  to 
see  her  that  evening  at  her  father’s  residence, 
which  she  granted  with  quivering  lips,  as  she 
glanced  up  into  his  face  from  the  depths  of  her 
lovely  eyes,  while  her  heart  was  throbbing  wild¬ 
ly  at  being  again  in  the  sunshine  of  his  presence. 
The  color  now  coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks 


Adrienne 


231 


revealed  to  Lord  Gilbert  how  deeply  she  was 
moved  by  the  ordeal  she  was  undergoing,  despite 
her  effort  at  self-control.  Later  on,  his  card 
having  been  sent  up  to  Adrienne,  Lord  Gilbert 
sat  waiting  in  the  drawing-room  of  Mr.  de 
Courcelles's  residence,  hungry  for  the  sight  of 
her  sweet  face.  It  was  not  long  before  he  heard 
the  silken  folds  of  her  evening  dress  making  a 
swishing  rustle  as  they  swept  the  floor,  when 
he  caught  his  breath  with  momentary  excite¬ 
ment,  then  turning  gazed  with  all  his  eyes  upon 
the  exquisite  dreamy  loveliness  of  the  vision  of 
womanhood  before  him,  but  met  her  with  the 
high-bred  delicacy  and  courtesy  that  ever  dis¬ 
tinguished  his  bearing,  his  voice  betraying  re¬ 
strained  feeling  as  he  spoke. 

“I  feel  that  I  am  justly  under  the  ban  of  your 
censure.  I  have  been  on  the  way  all  these 
weeks,  and  would  have  been  here  some  time 
ago,  but  for  a  serious  accident  that  forced  us 
to  put  into  port,  where  we  were  delayed  under¬ 
going  repairs.  I  wanted  to  confess  in  person 
that  I  was  not  under  my  full  name  in  the  United 
States.  I  thought  a  title  over  there  would  seem 
extremely  out  of  place.  Besides,  I  wished  to 
avoid  annoyance  of  any  sort.  But  that  I  should 
lose  my  heart  to  a  dear  little  American  girl,  I 
did  not  take  into  consideration.  I  dreaded  the 
effect  of  a  confession.  It  had  the  appearance 
of  duplicity.  But,  surely,  my  darling,  you  can- 


232 


Adrienne 


not  find  it  in  your  heart  to  withhold  from  an 
humble  suppliant  your  generous  forgiveness?” 
He  almost  trembled  during  the  pause  that  fol¬ 
lowed,  as  he  noticed  the  proud  poise  of  the  head. 
But  the  next  moment  as  she  glanced  up  into  his 
face  he  saw  nothing  in  the  depths  of  those  fasci¬ 
nating  eyes  save  a  melting  tenderness. 

“During  this  interval  of  silence  from  you  I 
have  told  myself  over  and  over  that  to  be  mis¬ 
erable  would  be  foolish  imagination.  For  what 
would  be  the  good  of  resisting  one’s  destiny? 
So,  I  resolved  to  be  courageous  and  face  life 
without  any  silly  repinings,  and  try  and  fill  up 
my  days  doing  good  for  others.  But,”  now 
glancing  timidly  at  him,  “your  explanation,  and 
the  fact  that  you  are  here ,  has  changed  every¬ 
thing,  and  as  we  are  commanded  to  forgive  to 
the  uttermost,  I  can  afford  to  be  magnanimous.” 
Bier  lips  parted  with  a  tremulous  smile  just  as 
he  drew  her  tenderly  within  his  arms,  and  bent 
his  head  to  seal  the  agreement  with  a  fond, 
clinging  caress  upon  their  witching  beauty. 

Inasmuch  as  Lord  Gilbert  had  been  recentlv 
attached  to  the  diplomatic  corps  at  Washing¬ 
ton,  therefore  due  in  the  United  States  at  an 
early  date,  it  was  arranged  that  the  marriage 
should  take  place  at  once,  thus  giving  him  time 
to  visit  with  his  bride  his  estates  in  England 
before  sailing  for  America. 


Adrienne 


233 


At  this  juncture  Adrienne  received  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Vincent,  descanting  in  glowing 
terms  upon  Washington  society.  The  most  im¬ 
portant  and  startling  feature  in  her  communica¬ 
tion  was  that  of  the  marriage  of  Miss  Belle 
Conrad  and  Sir  Edward  Havelock,  which,  the 
writer  declared,  had  taken  the  young  lady’s 
circle  of  friends  by  storm,  while  to  no  one — 
remembering  the  young  lady’s  penchant  for  a 
certain  Confederate  officer — had  it  been  more 
of  a  surprise  than  herself. 

It  seemed  to  Adrienne  the  irony  of  fate  that 
she  would  have  to  live  always  a  near  neighbor 
-to  Lady  Belle  Havelock.  “Yet,”  she  thought, 
“I  only  hope  she  will  make  him  happy  as  he  so 
justly  deserves,”  and  she  sighed  deeply. 

In  the  mean  time,  the  sudden  announcement 
of  Adrienne’s  marriage  had  turned  Kittie’s 
smiles  to  tears.  She  had  been  startled  beyond 
self-control  almost,  and  in  the  privacy  of  her 
own  room  gave  way  to  bitter  sobs.  Traces  of 
tears  were  on  her  cheeks  when  she  appeared  at 
the  table,  which  Mr.  de  Courcelles,  now  silent 
and  abstracted,  did  not  seem  to  observe.  There 
was  only  a  pretense  at  a  meal,  while  Adrienne, 
preoccupied  also,  now  and  then  shot  a  sympa¬ 
thetic  side-glance  at  her  father.  The  entire 
situation  grew  unbearable  to  Kittie.  She  rose 
from  the  table  and  left  the  room.  Flying  up¬ 
stairs  to  her  room  she  threw  herself  into  a  chair, 


234 


Adrienne 


giving  way  completely.  She  was  overwhelmed 
at  the  thought  of  having  to  leave  Adrienne’s 
home,  where  she  had  never  been  so  happy  be¬ 
fore — till  the  aching  in  her  heart  became  in¬ 
supportable,  suddenly  crying  aloud,  “Oh !  why 
did  I  come  here?  Surely  it  is  better  never  to 
have  known  than  to  have  to  forget.”  At  last 
she  drew  herself  together,  drying  her  eyes,  then, 
rising,  bathed  her  face.  The  next  moment, 
crossing  the  hall  to  Adrienne’s  rooms,  whom 
she  found  busily  engaged  superintending  the 
packing  of  their  trunks  and  boxes,  she  said  in 
rapid  tones, 

“I  am  going  below,  Adrienne,  and  take  one 
more  turn  on  the  lawn,  one  more  lingering  look 
over  this  lovely  place,  that  I  may  carry  the  fra¬ 
grance  of  it  away  in  my  heart,  and  the  beauty  of 
it  a  lasting  picture  in  my  mind.  For  I  realize 
that  I  am  going  never  to  return,  while  it  will  be 
your  privilege  to  go  and  come  at  pleasure.” 
Closing  the  door,  she  ran  as  though  pursued 
down  the  stairway,  landing  at  the  foot  directly 
opposite  the  library,  where  remembering  the 
life-like  picture  of  Mr.  de  Courcelles  hanging 
on  the  wall  in  this  room,  she  could  not  resist  the 
temptation  to  enter.  Pushing  open  the  door 
and  going  a  few  steps  inside,  suddenly  she  stood 
transfixed  at  seeing  Mr.  de  Courcelles  himself 
sitting  beside  a  table,  with  bowed  head  resting 
on  his  hands,  his  attitude  betraying  an  absorb- 


Adrienne 


235 


ing  grief.  Forgetting  herself  at  sight  of  his 
sorrow,  she  went  forward  timidly. 

“Mr.  de  Courcelles,”  she  said,  with  beating 
heart,  “I  now  see  your  sore  distress  at  having  to 
give  Adrienne  up,  just  as  you  were  so  happy  in 
her  sweet  society,  and  I  cannot  refrain  from 
expressing  to  you  my  sincere  sympathy.’' 

He  had  risen  from  his  chair,  and  now  stood 
erect,  looking  down  into  Kittie’s  eyes  with  a 
smile. 

“You  are  a  sweet  comforter,  and  your  words 
are  very  true.  However,  in  view  of  the  fact 
of  having  so  lovely  a  daughter,  it  is  the  only  re¬ 
sult  for  which  I  should  have  been  prepared. 
But,  in  addition  to  this,”  and  now  the  musical 
tones  of  his  voice  trembled  with  a  tender  in¬ 
flection,  “I  am  suffering  in  anticipation  of  your 
leaving  with  her.  The  thought  has  given  me 
an  indescribable  shock.  Can  it  be  that,  since  I 
have  had  the  happiness  of  knowing  you — of 
having  had  your  beaming  presence  in  my  home 
all  these  weeks — I  must  give  you  up  ?  Is  it  pos¬ 
sible,  Kittie,  you  intend  deserting  me?” 

This  sudden  revelation  of  his  love  entered  a 
sunbeam  of  joy  into  Kittie’s  soul.  He  was 
answered  by  the  radiance  in  her  flushed  face, 
though  in  much  confusion  she  took  refuge  in 
quite  a  commonplace  answer — 

“But,  Mr.  de  Courcelles,  you  know  that  I 
must  return  to  America  with  Adrienne.” 


236 


Adrienne 


"The  simplest  solution  to  the  matter,  under 
existing  circumstances,  will  be  that  we  are  mar¬ 
ried  at  once.  Will  you  consent  to  have  it  all 
arranged  accordingly  ?”  his  voice  vibrating  with 
the  excess  of  his  feelings. 

Kittie  bowed  her  head  a  little,  a  thousand 
emotions  playing  over  her  charming  face,  then 
looking  up,  flashed  a  sweet,  timid  glance  into 
his  eyes  as  she  replied, 

"It  is  all  so  wondrous  strange,  but  as  I  cannot 
persuade  myself  to  leave  you,  I  freely  consent 
to  what  you  may  think  best,”  and  for  a  moment 
the  solemnity  and  softness  in  her  eyes  had 
chased  away  the  usual  merry  gleam.  But  Kittie 
suddenly  vanished,  leaving  Mr.  de  Courcelles 
half-bewildered  with  the  great  joy  that  flooded 
his  soul. 

The  evening  of  this  memorable  day  closed 
in  the  usual  way.  Adrienne  and  Kittie  had  re¬ 
paired  to  the  drawing-room  in  evening  dress, 
as  was  their  custom,  but  neither  felt  disposed 
for  conversation.  They  were  sitting  quite  silent 
in  the  quiet  hour,  when  Mr.  de  Courcelles  came 
in,  with  the  usual  reserve  in  his  bearing  that 
marked  him  different  from  other  men.  His  eyes 
at  once  sought  Kittie’s,  who  returned  the 
courteous  bend  of  his  head  with  a  bewitching 
smile.  Seating  himself  near  them,  he  began, 
the  tone  of  his  voice  presaging  something  of 
importance  to  be  discussed,  his  foreign  accent, 


Adrienne 


237 


thought  by  every  one  to  be  so  indescribably  fas¬ 
cinating,  now  particularly  noticeable. 

“Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,  Adrienne,  how 
very  lonely  I  shall  be  when  you  two  young 
ladies  are  really  gone,  who  have  been  the  sun¬ 
shine  of  my  house  these  weeks?  I  have  been 
thinking  over  this  critical  hour  in  my  life,  and 
have  come  to  propose  a  compromise.  Suppose 
you  leave  Kittie  with  me.” 

Startled  at  this,  Adrienne’s  face  became  so 
white  that  Kittie  was  struck  with  alarm.  But 
after  reflecting  seriously  awhile,  her  innate 
good  sense  asserted  itself,  as,  turning  to  him, 
she  said,  though  there  was  suppressed  excite¬ 
ment  in  her  voice, 

“Father,  I  can  appreciate  your  feelings  and 
position,  which  upon  sober  reflection  I  must 
admit  are  natural.  But  I  must  own  to  have 
been  strangely  dense  in  the  matter.  I  want  to 
assure  you  that,  having  no  real  objection, 
I  shall  be  happy  in  the  thought  that  you  are 
happy.  Surely  I  have  been  simply  stupid  not 
to  have  expected  this.  Kittie,”  now  directing 
a  penetrating  gaze  into  Kittie’ s  happy  eyes,  “is 
this  the  outcome  of  our  long  friendship  and 
attachment  ?” 

Kittie  threw  a  droll,  mischievous  glance 
toward  Adrienne’s  grave,  questioning  face,  as 
she  answered,  with  a  breezy  smile, 


238 


Adrienne 


“The  happy  event  of  my  future  happiness, 
Adrienne,  was  shadowed  forth  when  I  felt  my 
heart  strangely  warmed  toward  directing  your 
tottering  infant  footsteps  at  school  in  carefully 
teaching  your  first  ideas  how  to  shoot.  Surely 
there  is  a  destiny  that  shapes  our  lives.” 

Mr.  de  Courcelles  laughed,  in  which  Ad¬ 
rienne  joined. 

“How  absurd  you  are,  Kittie.  But  is  it  pos¬ 
sible  you  love  him  well  enough  to  exile  your¬ 
self  for  his  sake?” 

“I  am  very  willing  to  undergo  the  exile,  as 
you  term  it,  and  am  so  happy  that  I  feel  as 
though  some  fairy  has  touched  me  with  her 
wand  of  enchantment,”  a  soft  flush  suffusing 
her  cheek  as  she  met  the  eyes  of  the  man  who 
was  so  soon  to  be  her  husband. 

On  the  following  morning  two  marriages 
were  solemnized  in  the  small  English  chapel. 
The  brides  wore  gray  traveling  dresses  of  rich 
material,  made  over  silk  of  the  same  color,  their 
hats  corresponding  in  shade. 

Happiness  glowed  in  Adrienne's  beautiful 
face,  while  the  rapture  of  delight  shone  in  the 
depths  of  Kittie’s  blue  eyes;  for  it  was  her 
happy  wedding-day.  All  the  world  seemed 
brighter,  a  sweeter  fragrance  came  from  the 
flowers,  and  her  life  seemed  filled  with  a  new 
spirit  of  beauty  and  thankfulness.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  Mr.  de  Courcelles  and  Kittie  were 


Adrienne 


239 


standing  on  the  quay  in  the  soft  blowing  sea 
breeze,  waving  a  tender  adieu  to  Lord  and  Lady 
Gilbert,  until  the  steamer  had  drifted  far,  and 
finally  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  mists  of  the  sea. 

From  contending  emotions  of  sadness  and 
gladness  Kittie’s  eyes  were  drowned  in  tears. 
Her  husband,  presently  leaning  forward  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  her  face,  was  struck  with 
contrition  at  sight  of  her  deluged  orbs. 

“My  darling,  my  sweet  wife,”  his  voice  was 
infinitely  caressing,  “it  is  because  of  my  tender 
love  for  you  that  I  shall  give  up  living  in  the 
East,  and  return  to  civilization.  You  must  not, 
for  my  sake,  renounce  all  that  will  make  life 
harmonious  and  pleasant  for  you.” 

Kittie’s  tears  suddenly  ceased,  as  she  raised 
her  eyes  to  his  and  said,  with  emphasis, 

“I  would  not  for  the  world  agree  to  your 
making  so  great  a  sacrifice.  It  is  my  cherished* 
desire  to  live  always  in  this  exquisite  land. 
With  my  husband  I  have  found  a  life  filled  with 
the  spirit  of  blessing,  a  happiness  in  perfect 
love.”  She  said  this  softly,  sweetly,  with 
bewitching  tenderness.  We  leave  them  under 
the  benediction  of  an  Eastern  cloudless  sky,  now 
radiant  from  the  after-glow  of  the  setting  sun. 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 
UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA 
AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

wilmer 

597 


